


Ode to a Nightingale

by KnightVanguard, timeandspaces, Woolfsbane



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: F/F, Gay Sex, Hospitals, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Victorian, Victorian Attitudes, Younger Helsing, tuberculosis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-01-16 20:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightVanguard/pseuds/KnightVanguard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeandspaces/pseuds/timeandspaces, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woolfsbane/pseuds/Woolfsbane
Summary: Abraham van Helsing is a physician in the top of his field, facing down tuberculosis as it ravages England in the latter 1880's. He and his head nurse, Lucy Westenra, are called by Dr. John Seward to look in on a most peculiar case of anemia, with an unknown cause and an odd set of bite marks. The cause and culprit prove more personable and otherworldly than they ever could have expected.





	1. I: Sunday, 03/26/1885

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for checking us out. We write each chapter in three points of view, with Helsing written by Woolfsbane, Mina Murray written by timeandspaces, and Lucy Westenra written by Knight Vanguard. We hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Due to the pandemic, we are currently on a break. However, we do intend to finish this fic in the future.

_ St. Mary Hospital for Consumptive Fever, Whitby., _

_ Mar. 17, 1885. _

_ Prof. Abraham van Helsing _

_ St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, _

_ London. _

_ Sir - It is with the utmost urgency that I write to request your presence at St. Mary’s. After the previously stated Physician’s Meeting, it was determined that of the practicing physicians you are of the highest regard for diagnosis and treatment of diseases of the pulmonary system. As per your previous inquiry, it will be our pleasure to host both yourself as well as your Head Nurse. Arrangements have been made on your behalf at the local inn. _

_ Yours respectfully, _

_ Dr. John Seward _

_ Associate Physician _

Abraham van Helsing clutched the note as he stepped off of the carriage. The ride to the remote coastal hospital was tumultuous at best, and the constant jostling left him rather nauseated and miserable. It was not often that a student would write to him, for pride was so often a downfall of his field, though in fairness he had only been granted a teaching position in the last year. Most physicians are loathe to admit to having been taught anatomy by a professor younger than them. And yet, Dr. John Seward had written him.

“Come, Nurse Westenra,” Abraham said, though she was already several steps ahead of him, having been less afflicted by the ride over. She raised a pretty brow at him.

“Perhaps we should wait for your color to improve,” she said curtly. All pretenses of seniority had long dissolved between them. Hazards of keeping odd hours and falling asleep in the hospital.

“I will improve on our walk,” he huffed, clutching his medical kit slightly tighter. “I do hope you will be more polite to our hosts,” he added as he caught up to her.

“Your glasses are crooked,” Nurse Westenra said strictly. “Must you wear them? They cause you to be near-sighted.”

“Mr. Harker said that I appear boyish without them,” Abraham frowned. The ground was perilously uneven, however, so he pocketed them.

“You are boyish,” Nurse Westenra graced him with the ghost of a smile. “How old are you, sir?”

“I recently turned twenty-nine,” Abraham said sheepishly. Nurse Westenra was only a few years younger than him and Dr. Seward was older by several.

“Did you remember to bring the file on the case they’ve asked you to look at?” Nurse Westenra asked. Abraham’s brow furrowed in irritation.

“Of course I remembered,” he started, reaching into his medical bag. He stopping dead in his tracks as he realized with morbid terror that he had not, in fact, brought the case notes.

“Doctor?” Nurse Westenra asked, turning to face him. Abraham stiffened, recovering some semblance of control.

“I believe I may have left the notes in London,” Abraham said rigidly. Nurse Westenra sighed, looking him over with exhausted understanding.

“You did read them, correct?” Nurse Westenra asked.

“I…” Abraham’s shoes became unbearably interesting. Had there always been a scuff mark on the toe of his left shoe? He bent down to correct a loose shoelace, taking his time and making it neat.

“Doctor.” Nurse Westenra took a warning tone. Abraham stood hesitantly.

“Nurse.” He tried to match her sternness and failed miserably.

“Well?” Nurse Westenra asked, tilting her head slightly and raising a brow.

“The patients presented with standard consumptive symptoms. Failed to progress even with treatment, falling into fits of somnolence…” Abraham listed off what he recalled from Dr. Seward’s letters. He had planned to read the file; truly he had. But his anatomical lecture was demanding and his own patients required care. In truth, it had slipped his mind.

“You never read the file,” Nurse Westenra stated as they approached the small hospital.

“I most certainly did,” Abraham said defensively.

“What was the oddest symptom?” She prompted.

“Nurse Westenra, did you break into my office and read the confidential medical files?” Abraham asked in what he hoped was a dignified and accusatory fashion.

“Your door was unlocked and I have developed a habit of checking to make sure that you go home to sleep,” Nurse Westenra said with ease. “The file was unopened, despite our imminent trip to the countryside.”

“I would have read it,” Abraham sighed. “It merely-”

“Slipped your mind?” Nurse Westenra smiled.

“...Perhaps.” Abraham kicked himself for forgetting. How could he have allowed himself to be seduced by making slides and drawing up the samples of roundworm from his teaching cadaver? “What was the oddest symptom?” He asked meekly.

“Twin puncture wounds in the neck, just below the jaw, measuring approximately three and a half centimetres apart,” Nurse Westenra listed with all the confidence he was supposed to have. He was nearly positive that, were women allowed to attend medical school, she would have his job in the blink of an eye.

“Peculiar,” Abraham mused. “Animal bite?”

“Patients have no recollection of the incident,” Nurse Westenra said as they climbed the stairs. “More importantly, they were already admitted to the hospital when the supposed attack occurred.”

“Curious,” Abraham nodded. The large double-doors swung open as Dr. Seward, a nurse, and another young man stepped out to greet them.

“Professor Van Helsing,” Dr. Seward said warmly. “How rare it is to see you outside of your surgical theatre.” Abraham smiled awkwardly.

“I see you’re well, Dr. Seward,” Abraham said politely, earning him a hollow laugh.

“I have seen better days,” Dr. Seward said stiffly. “There have been many sleepless nights here at Saint Mary’s.” Now that he’d been prompted, Abraham noted the circles under his student’s eyes.

“My apologies,” Abraham said. He gestured to Nurse Westenra. “This is my head nurse, Lucy Westenra. She will be my assistant during our stay.”

“Pleasure,” Dr. Seward said as he shook her hand. “Nurse Murray is in charge of things here,” he said as he glanced to the woman beside him. “And this is Mr. Dracula, a medical student. I believe I mentioned his interest in apprenticing at Barts.”

“You may have,” Abraham said hesitantly. In truth, he didn’t read the letters closely. He looked at the other man, who was of indeterminate age between twenty and thirty-five. There was an odd air to him; his hair was jet black, with skin so fair it seemed almost gray. His eyes were a distressingly ruddy shade of brown. Nearly red.

“Come. I’ll show you to the patients,” Dr. Seward said, breaking Abraham’s focus on Mr. Dracula. He followed Dr. Seward and Nurse Murray up into their tuberculosis ward.

Abraham at first felt that nothing was amiss in the ward. There were patients of a variety of ages and in fairly diverse progressions of the disease. Most were awake, given that it was early evening, save for those in the final grips, whose sleep was maintained by morphine. Nurse Murray guided them to two beds, which each were inhabited by a young woman.

“These patients were in fairly good health up until the past few weeks,” Nurse Murray explained. “They were both in the early stages of the cough, with shortness of breath and rattling in the lungs. Only Miss Liams was exhibiting bloody spittle.” Nurse Murray pushed back the hair of Miss Liams, which draped over her neck. “These are-”

“As you can see, these are the puncture wounds I wrote to you about,” Dr. Seward said, cutting her off. “Each measures only half a centimetre in width, and approximately three in depth.”

“How have you obtained that measurement?” Abraham asked, opening his medical kit and taking out a magnifying glass.

“Estimation at first, followed measuring with a notched metal probe,” Dr. Seward stated. Abraham looked closely at the puncture marks, noting to himself how clean the wound area was for an animal bite.

“How long ago did the marks appear?” Abraham asked, folding up the magnifying glass and placing it back in his case.

“Perhaps three weeks ago,” Nurse Murray answered. She shot a bit of a glare towards Dr. Seward as she beat him to speaking.

“And no onset of infection or healing?” Abraham asked. It was odd that a would would stay open for so long without any sign of closing without the presence of an infection.

“None,” Dr. Seward said seriously. “Though at this point the oddest symptom is the sleep.”  
“I recall that from your notes,” Abraham said, pointedly ignoring the mild smirk on Nurse Westenra’s face.

“Here, watch this,” Dr. Seward said, pulling a lancet from a kit the Nurse Murray brought up. “She will not respond to any stimuli.” He first ran the needle along her arm, which as promised generated to response. He pricked her lightly on the wrist, again nothing. Even when he pressed the needle deep into the fingertip there was no indication that she felt it.

“Odd,” Abraham said, though he was more interested in the lack of bleeding from both sites. He pressed a finger firmly against the back of her hand. Normally, the blood would be pushed out and a white patch would remain where his finger was and would disappear after a matter of seconds. There was no sign of circulation. He reached for her face, lifting one of her lips.

“Professor?” Dr. Seward asked as he look at her pale gums.

“How long as she been anemic?” Abraham asked, releasing his hold on her face.

“Pardon?” Dr. Seward asked, looking slightly embarrassed. Mr. Dracula seemed intrigued.

“Her gums,” Abraham showed him again. “See how weak the coloration is? They should be pink. And she did not bleed adequately from the needle pricks.”

“They don’t always,” Dr. Seward said.

“But look,” Abraham said as he pumped her finger slightly, only generating the smallest drop of blood after the firmest possible wringing of her hand. “She is clearly suffering from a drastic loss of blood. Have you discounted internal bleeding?”

“Nurse?” Dr. Seward turned to Nurse Murray.

“There are no signs of bruising or swelling of the body cavity to indicate internal bleeding,” Nurse Murray said curtly. There was tension that Abraham couldn’t quite understand as he returned his attention to the patients.

“It could be the tuberculosis,” he offered, though he was doubtful. “Profuse bleeding from the lungs has been known to occur in the latest stages of the disease.”

“These two were in the early stages when they were admitted,” Dr. Seward said with a sigh. “If it weren’t a ridiculous proposition I’d say they were drained of blood,” he added lightly.

“Why?” Abraham asked. “Why is that a ridiculous proposition? It is an adequate diagnosis that fits with the presenting symptoms.” He blinked as he saw that Nurse Murray, Dr. Seward, Nurse Westenra, and Mr. Dracula were all looking at him with utter disbelief. He laughed awkwardly. “I mean, of course it’s a bit preposterous, and I would want to do more tests and perhaps perform a transfusion, or even take them back to Barts...”

“Do you really think it so severe?” Dr. Seward asked tentatively.

“I think it intriguing, and odd,” Abraham sighed. “And we have cutting-edge advances in medical technology, as well as my own professors.”

“You want them there in case they die,” Dr. Seward said seriously.

“Well...yes,” Abraham said. “Though let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Yes, let’s.” Dr. Seward said morosely. “I’ll have Mr. Dracula show you where you’ll be staying in town. I do hope you will join me and Mr. Dracula for dinner this evening?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Abraham said awkwardly. “Unless Nurse Westenra has need for me?”

“Nurse Murray was a friend from nursing school,” Nurse Westenra smiled. “We discussed meeting up for a meal or two during our visit, and I will be staying at her home with her to catch up.”

“Ah, wonderful,” Abraham said. He was a little let-down that she’d be so far from him, but he supposed it would be for the best that he be forced to converse with the locals. Especially if these cases were regional. “I suppose everything is set then, and we’ll meet again in the morning to go over the cases in better detail?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Nurse Westenra reassured. 

* * *

_ Ivy Cottage, Whitby, _

_ May. 13, 1884. _

_ My dear Mina, _

_ It is my dearest wish that this letter finds you well in health and spirit. I, myself, am in good health though I will admit my spirit suffers for its absence from you and our home. Transylvania is a beautiful but foreign abode, flecked with fleeting sunlight and open to the great wilds of the wilderness. On occasion, I have even thought to have heard wolves in the nearby forest, circling the walls of the castle like sentries. I have recounted to you, of course, the odd events which plagued my journey to the castle. Regardless, I am grateful to the kind and courteous Count, who has made every effort to give me sanctuary within his estate. At present, my business here remains unfinished and thus I remain parted from you, for which I am ever more pained with each passing day. I will write at once when I have made plans to return home. _

_ I apologize for the shortness of this letter. I am kept well engaged in my business here and have little time to write. _

_ Yours Most Ardently, _

_ Johnathan _

_ Johnathan Harker, _

_ Bran Castle, Transylvania. _

The letter was one which rested by her bedside for months. Though perhaps, rested was an improper choice of words. In actuality the letter had been turned over many times, run through, picked apart, parchment made threadbare by examination and late night scrutiny. For all its resemblance to their many other reams of exchanged papers, the structure of that last letter delivered to her prior to Johnathan’s disappearance troubled her as did the intent. For one, the letter was written in common manner, disregarding completely their preferred method of shorthand. Furthermore, the use of certain phrases lifted from the page like smoke signals, insistences of ‘sanctuary’ and the discussion of wolves as ‘sentries,’ guards against a vicious wilderness. Yet, Johnathan was eager to leave. ‘Pained’ for his captivity, if indeed that is what it was.

And, finally, the most concerning element of all; the excess of affection and wistful longing lacing his words, an impression of romance long since made unnecessary by their shorthand. The use of the word ‘ardently’ in particular rendered the letter so heavily falsified as to be laughable. Such language was only ever used in front of Johnathan’s colleagues and Mina’s distant kin.

The one letter. May 13. Then silence. Or, a manner of silence, at least. Oh, the letters still came and in abundance, but they were unrecognizable to her. Her fiancé’s hand, her fiancé’s words, and there an overwhelming strangeness which she could not shake.

Mina feared for him. She feared for him then, as the abundance of letters formed in her fiancé’s hand piled onto her desk, and she feared for him later, upon receiving word from Sister Agatha in Buda-Pesth of his condition, and she feared for him now, watching him lie helpless, infirmed to a bed and clutched in an apparent state of hysteria.

The devoted fiancée she was, Mina was immediately prepared to dote upon him, tending to his wounds of the mind and soul in equal measure. Likewise, as his most loyal friend, she was willing to break from her work in the hospital to make him her sole concern. That was before the the peculiar string of illness fell upon their town, however. Men and women with puncture wounds which would not heal, symptoms of tuberculosis mixed with signs of blood loss.

Dr. Seward, the fool he was, could not make hide nor hair of it. It had taken weeks of subtle prodding and degrading suggestions to convince Seward he must summon another to consult on the case and even then the doctor he called for appeared lacking, a boyish professor with a pretense for forgetting to respond to letters. It was only Lucy’s faith in the man which assured Mina of his competence. After all, her dear friend, who had held status as the most accomplished of their class, would never have tied herself to an incompetent fraud.

Not like Mina had.

“Mina.” Lucy greeted her more properly once the men had taken leave, turning on her a blinding smile and offering a tight hug, which Mina welcomed willingly.

“Lucy.” Mina smiled softly her return. “You’re looking well.”

“I’m feeling well.” Lucy said. Her gaze turned sympathetic. “Though, I hear you’re not so.”

Mina hummed absently, reluctant to display too much emotion towards the matter. Though her concern for Johnathan was real and constant, Lucy had an amazing habit of baring Mina’s soul for display, and it would not do well to reveal those facts she had worked so hard to keep hidden in her letters. Lying, it would seem, was much easier to accomplish with pen and parchment. “Johnathan is...mentally strained at the current time. I fear his adventures in the East have taken their toll on him.”

Lucy took her hands and led her to sit on the nearest unoccupied bed, most likely under the assumption that Mina should grow faint upon discussing the woes of her fiancé. Once seated, she turned Mina’s hands over in her lap and grasped them tight. “Tell me of everything that has happened.” Lucy implored earnestly. “So that I may know best how to aid both him and you in these most troubling of times.”

Mina sighed and ran her thumb over Lucy’s knuckle, silently grateful for the contact so long denied by distance. “I’m afraid there is no aid to be given and little to be done. Naturally, I should wish to spend all my days by Johnathan’s side to assist in his recovery but,” she gestured to the well occupied ward, “as you can see, my time is limited.”

Lucy studied the nearest patient with the air of one engaging with fine literature. Or, perhaps more accurately, like one faced with a challenging puzzle for which there are only a few solutions. “It is a most peculiar case indeed.”

“Truly.” Mina said. “I am hard pressed to find a reason for it. Though, even if I were to, I doubt Seward would heed any advice.”

Lucy tilted her head to one side. “Am I to assume he is still as useless as your last letter claimed him to be?”

“More so.” She glanced around and, dropping her voice to a whisper, leaned in close to Lucy. “At least before, I could count on his expertise in matters of the mind, however experimental and reckless they may be. In concerns of the body, however, his incompetence borders on dangerous.” She parted from her intimacy with Lucy reluctantly. “I do hope that the doctor you brought will prove to be more capable.”

“I believe he is.” Lucy said with confidence. “I have worked with him for many years and he is quite adept in his field. Furthermore, he listens to my suggestions and heeds my warnings.”

“You are lucky, then.” Mina grumbled. “The only man who will take my word with value is currently lying in a pool of his own sweat and tears.”

Lucy’s face shifted in an instant, growing concerned and fretful as her grip tightened. “Mina, darling-” she began.

Mina cut her off with a shake of the head. “I’m sorry. I let my passions run ahead of me and the stress of this spring is playing tricks with my disposition.” She stood from the bed, pulling Lucy up with her, and smiled brightly. “Come. I have been dismissed for the evening and I do wish to squeeze as much shared time as possible out of your visit. It is not often these days I am met with a kindred spirit.”

They left the hospital with haste, Mina taking the lead as she dragged Lucy through the cobblestone streets. Though she was fond of her work and took great pride in her ability, the wards and cells of St. Mary’s had grown suffocating with fever heat and suffering, a concrete air which settled in the lung and drew breath from breast and looseness from limbs.

Lucy indulged her quickened pace and random step, as she did with most of Mina’s eccentricities, laughing lightly as she was tugged to and fro. “Where are we traveling in such a hurry?” Lucy asked, though she needn’t have. Both knew the final destination.

The numerous steps which led up to the abby did little to deter Mina’s forward pursuit, though they did hamper Lucy considerably, forcing the pair to adopt a more reasonable gait. As they plodded onward, Lucy drew even to Mina and took her by the hand once more.

“You are little changed, Mina.” Lucy smiled through thin breaths.

“How do you mean?” Mina asked curiously.

Lucy produced a nonsensical motion with her free hand. “For all we write, this is the first we have seen of each other in many years. You are engaged to be married, secure in life and future. I suppose I expected you to be more--”

“Settled?” Mina challenged.

“I suppose.” Lucy laughed. “And yet, here we are, running to the abbey like two young girls released from household chores.”

Mina drew a deep breath of the sharp, salted air before answering. “As it so happens, I am quite settled. Among my neighbors, I am known as a woman of supreme chaste and proper poise, friendly and courteous in all aspects. In my work, I am composed and competent, seldom seen without a patient in attendance. In my home life, I am a perfectly dutiful, loyal, and useful fiancé.”

“‘Useful.’” Lucy scoffed. “I don’t understand the appeal. Is it not better to live for things immaterial and beautiful than practical and crude?”

Mina paused and met Lucy’s clever eyes purposefully. “Why can’t a person be both? The sea is useful, is it not, tides bringing ships into the harbor, fish and crabs drawn from the depths? Yet, look,” Mina swept her hands out towards the ocean, relishing the cut of the wind and the endless expanse, “it is more beautiful than any poet should ever be able to describe.”

The silence following her words stretched, prompting Mina to return her attention to her normally enthused companion. “Lucy?” She asked concernedly as the other avoided her gaze. “Are you quite well?”

“Yes.” Lucy said. “Quite.” She cleared her throat. “Shall we continue?”

The bench by the abbey allowed a splendid view of the seascape, stretching from the ragged cliffs to the hollowed out harbor and the beach which stretched along it. Though the climb was a popular spot in good weather, the day’s cloudy gloom cleared the hilltop of any other spectre to the glorious scenery. The gloom, Mina supposed, and the spreading illness. Her mood dampened at once.

“Should we return for the evening?” Mina suggested to a much distracted Lucy.

“We’ve only just arrived.” Lucy appeared surprised as Mina stood and straightened her skirt.

“Yes, but I am bored.” Mina said shortly. She glanced to Lucy and softened her gaze. “Besides, I wish to hear all about your exploits in London. Letters cannot compare with the spoken word and tonight, I will claim all of yours as my own. We will not rest until you have regaled me with every last detail.”

“Then we will be up all night.” Lucy teased, though she seemed content in the plan. “We will talk until the moon is risen then take to our beds. I expect a long day of work ahead of us tomorrow.”

Mina surveyed Lucy, still fresh in face and amble in energy. Dear, dear Lucy. She knew not what lay ahead of her. “Yes,” Mina nodded nonetheless, “we will face the new day with boldness.”

Once more, Mina took the lead as they descended from the hill.

* * *

“I must say, Mina, your home is lovely. Much better than the ramshackle things we lived in for school.” The greying spring sunshine cast a ghostly light on the redstone cottage. Ivy and trellis roses clung to gaps in the mortar and gave the small structure crossing veins and arteries that pulsed into a heart. Dots of purple columbine and splashes of kingcup decked the walkway to the door and Mina absentmindedly trailed her hand through the leaves of a honeysuckle bush. Lucy stopped on the doorstep and turned to her friend when she didn’t answer. “Is something on your mind?”

Mina’s attention snapped back from fairyland when she gave Lucy a gentle smile and took her hand once more. “It is nothing much. I couldn’t possibly bore you with such cheerless matters. Not when you’ve only just arrived.”

Lucy cocked her head and looked deep into Mina’s dark eyes. They tumbled and turned like a bark lost in a storm. With a strength that might have been rude or unwelcome, she pulled Mina to stand with her on the step, safe from the newly falling rain. “I hope you should know, my dear friend, that despite the years between our last meeting, your happiness means a great deal to me. Anything that brings you such displeasure is surely worth my time.”

“I have already told you there is little to be done,” Mina whispered, the faint tendrils of her voice almost lost to the sound of rain of stone.

“Nonsense,” Lucy said firmly as she clasped both of Mina’s hands and held them to her chest. Her skin seemed chilled despite the warmth that hung low in the air. “Allow me and Dr. Van Helsing to care for Jonathan. I think you will find, despite our eccentricities, we are able to do astounding work. Dr. Van Helsing truly is the best man in his field. If anyone can help your dear fiancé, it is him.”

“And you, the best woman.” Mina smiled and bowed her head. “Never forget it. There is scarcely anyone I would trust more with Jonathan’s health.”

“Other than yourself,” Lucy added, reading the words that raced around her head on dragonflies’ wings.

“Other than myself,” she agreed, still not meeting Lucy’s eyes. How she longed to cup her friends cheek and bring those dark eyes to meet her own star grey. Before Lucy could act, Mina stepped away and opened the door with a delicate key. “Truly though, I wish to hear all about your grand adventures before we move on to my sad tales.” Lucy was barely able to catch her friend she she tripped over a dry luggage set. “I see your dear doctor had made arrangements,” Mina laughed breathlessly.

“Yes, and how kind of him not to tell me,” Lucy muttered, hefting the leather cases into her arms. She loathed the feeling of loosing Mina’s touch, but was somewhat placated as she was shown her room. The fourposter, oaken bed was pressed against a wall and draped with white gossamer curtains. A large, arched window would let in the moon when it finally cleared. Velvet lounge chairs and a amaranthine, Persian rug tied the space into a complete living area. Lucy set her bags by a hulking dresser and waited while Mina smoothed the sheets and pillows.

“I hope you find my spare room suitable,” she sang as she drifted to and fro, trying to keep herself mysteriously busy. There was still not a hint of eye contact between the two friends. Lucy supposed that dear Mina thought she was being discrete and hiding her woes from her friend, but alas; Lucy knew her far too well for that game to work. Still, Mina would never talk if she did not wish to and Lucy would have to be content with the false pretense of happiness for tonight.

“It is lovely,” Lucy said pleasantly. “I am forever grateful that you have opened your house to me. Dr. Van Helsing is a wonderful man, but I fear others may not be so open minded of my living with him.”

“I understand,” Mina nodded and flashed the briefest hint of a smile. “I hate that you must meet Dr. Seward. He is an absolute leech and a wretch of a man, but I should let you get dressed for bed before we continue in earnest.”

Lucy nodded her assent and she was left alone for a moment to change into a light dressing gown. She curled against the pillows on her new bed and waited for her friend to return, which she did, in due time, with two cups of chamomile tea. She graciously accepted one into her hands and smiled as Mina settled next to her.

“Tell me all about your dear doctor,” Mina commanded in her gentle way, leading Lucy thoroughly down the path she wanted to follow.

“You will love him to pieces,” Lucy clasped her hands together. “He is quite young with a tendency to look and act quite silly because he yearns to be taken seriously by his peers even though he outranks them by miles. He is a professor at St. Barts and is very involved with all the latest research.”

“You’ve said many times,” Mina smiled fondly, “But how is he as a man?”

“While you may have your Jonathan, Dr. Van Helsing is the only man who has ever treated me with the respect I deserve; the only man who seems to recognize that I, too, am adept in my field. He allows me to be his assistant and and chases away jealous little boys when they come crying about my involvement.” Lucy leaned delicately on her wrist towards an enthralled Mina. “Never once has he mentioned my physical appearance and, gift of all gifts, he has not tried to propose.” Her voice rang high and joyous as it filled the gabled ceiling.

“ My Lucy? Not receiving a marriage proposal? I could have never of dreamt it,” Mina laughed as thin as mist and linked her arm with Lucy’s. 

“It is my one wish come true. You should see how much he cares, Mina. I would never have thought a man was caple of feeling such a depth of emotion.”

“Then you would be quite pleased with Jonathan, I believe. It is a shame you must meet him in his state. He would have liked you as well…” she trailed away sadly and Lucy held her hand.

“I will like him regardless of his ailment. He will be your husband and I know Wilhelmina Murray only has the highest of standards.”

“You’re funny.” Mina held Lucy’s hand tighter, betraying her true emotions.

“I most certainly am not. I speak the truth and only the truth, especially to you, dear Mina,” Lucy made her voice as war and soft as her throat would allow, hoping to project an aire of protective calm around her sweet friend.

“I trust you,” Mina sighed, “as I trust the sun to rise.” She leaned her head against Lucy’s shoulder and tried to politely hide a yawn. “Has our moon risen yet? I would not want to keep you from your rest.”

“I cannot tell,” Lucy mused, “But I suppose the means we may talk for as long as we please.” She smiled as Mina rest her head against a satin pillow.

“Then you may keep telling me your stories.” She smiled contentedly for the first time since they had returned to the ivy covered cottage.

“Have you none for me?” Lucy asked playfully.

“Later,” Mina murmured. “Later, once you have met Jonathan.”

So, Lucy told her sweet friend stories of working with Dr. Van Helsing. Rather than telling an account of her life, Lucy caught the distinct impression that she was chasing away the horrors of Mina’s own. It would have to suffice, for now. Lucy was more than happy to play the vanguard of pleasant dreams as Mina drifted off to a tale of her and Dr. Van Helsing searching the beach for his lost pair of glasses.

The morning came too quickly and Lucy and Mina could hardly speak before they were whisked away to St. Mary’s. Even though Mina’s house was idyllic as a poem, the route they had to walk was less so. Dark alleys could hold many horrors jammed within their cracks. Lucy thought she could see some squirming in the corner of her eye, but Mina pulled her along. Vague yelling of a wicked boy with dirty shoes came from a battered apartment building.

The hospital was cleaner, but not necessarily more pleasant. With very little negotiating, Dr. Van Helsing agreed to pay special attention to Jonathan’s case and he sent Lucy to prepare for their first meeting. As she gathered such simple things as blankets and water, Lucy slowly became away that a man was jabbering along behind her, completely unaware that she was not paying attention even in the slightest.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Dr. Seward asked, raising a prim eyebrow at the busy nurse.

“Does it have to do with my work?” Lucy asked, knowing full well the answer. “If it did, then I must beg your apology. If not, then you should beg mine. I am very busy.”

“I just think it’s a shame that a beauty such as yourself hasn’t been married off to some lucky man yet.” He seemed unfazed by Lucy ignoring him. “Have you been told that you have eyes like the stars and hair like moonbeams? For surely--”

“Sir, I have. Many times. Do you take issue with my work? If not, I have a patient to attend to.” Lucy strode out of the room, her shoulders pressed back to give her the aire of a prince. Immediately, she was greeted by two other men, whose confusion was spread across their faces like the sun on the sea. “Are you looking for someone?” she asked.

“Oh, I am looking for one Caroline Holmwood,” some stuffy nobleman or other asked. “I am her son, Arthur Holmwood.” Lucy was profoundly uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, as if she were meant to be seen and not heard.

She was lucky she remembered the name. “Of course,” she answered. “Down the west wing and someone else will be able to guide you from there. And you?”

“I believe you have my cousin in here somewhere?” Lucy was physically taken aback at the strength of this walking, talking personification of Texas as he took her hand and shook.

“And you would be?”

“Quincy Morris. Texan.” He drawled as Lucy caught the sight of not one, but two Bowie knives strapped to his belt. She took a few steps back.

“I believe there was a Morris down that same wing,” Lucy tried to give her best smile, but these men were blocking her way towards Jonathan.

“Thank you. Has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful?”

“Yes, several times today, in fact,” Lucy snapped. “Now, go attend to your loved ones.” The two men cut to action and promptly left her alone.

Lucy made her way quickly to Jonathan’s room where Dr. Van Helsing was already waiting for her. She placed the supplies gently on the table and tried to recover the aspect of someone calm and comforting.

“Why are you late, Nurse Westenra? That’s very unlike you,” Dr. Van Helsing asked as he took Jonathan’s temperature. 

“I’m sorry,” she bowed her head. “I was caught up chasing away suitors,” she gave Dr. Seward a venomous look.

Dr. Van Helsing raised a confused eyebrow, but did not protest. “What do you know about Mr. Harker’s case?”

“Very little,” Lucy confessed. “Nurse Murray told me nothing, but I gather from our introduction earlier that he is not one of the victims afflicted with puncture wounds and anemia.” She paused for a moment and took in the visible symptoms of her new patient. “It does not seem like he had tuberculosis either, or perhaps a very early stage of the disease,” she thought aloud.

“Good observation,” Dr. Van Helsing smiled. “No, our friend here appears to have a brain fever, though the cause is somewhat uncertain at the moment. Has Nurse Murray given any indication of something traumatic happening in the recent past? Perhaps an injury or a death?”

“No,” Lucy admitted with no small amount of defeat. “She has mentioned nothing, but tells me his mind is unwell.” She ran a cool cloth across his forehead. He tossed and turned as if nightmares were flickering just under his eyelids.

“He speaks of castles, bats, and monsters,” the doctor said gravely. If he were a Catholic, he might have crossed himself.

“I don’t know what to make of that, sir,” Lucy said. It was no wonder that Mina was so anxious over the fate of her husband.

“Me neither. Would you please write a note to Nurse Murray asking for more details,” he said as he began packing up his medical kit. His voice softened and he became more like the man Lucy knew and loved. “Be as gentle as you can. There is no need to frighten her more than necessary.” He placed a calm hand on her shoulder. “I need your help analyzing some samples tonight.” Then, he left her, once again, alone with Dr. Seward.

After thinking over the appropriate format of her note, Lucy put a pen to paper and began writing.

_ Ivy Cottage, Whitby, _

_ Mar. 27, 1885. _

_ My dear Mina, _

_ Dr. Van Helsing has me helping him with research tonight, so I may not return home until late. He has also asked me to push harder regarding Jonathan’s recent experience that might send him into such a state. I am delighted to the stars to write that he doesn’t have tuberculosis, but rather a mysterious brain fever. The more information you are able to supply, the better we will be able to help. _

_ If you would rather talk about such sensitive matters in person, I fully understand. I just need you to know that we care a great deal for both of your safeties and would not blame you for whatever transgression, real or imagined, you think you may have committed (though I am sure it is nothing) _

_ As with all my letters, even though this one is strange, I hope this finds you with open arms and an unburdened heart (or as unburdened as you are able.) _

_ _

_ Your loving friend _

_ Lucy _

_ Nurse. Lucy A. Westenra, _

_ St. Mary Hospital for Consumptive Fever, Whitby. _

Lucy folded the parchment and slipped it into an envelope quickly once she realized Dr. Seward was blabbering to her again about good English girls and good English breeding. She had heard enough when she forced the letter against his chest.

“Why don’t you do something  _useful_ ,” she spat Mina’s word back at him. “And deliver this letter to Nurse Murray.”


	2. Monday Morning, 03/27/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham prescribes treatment. Mina decodes letters. Lucy builds evidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for reading our second chapter! Early reception is so vital to any work, so please let us know what you think. We almost always reply to comments!

Travel, it turned out, was by far the most effective method of preventing people from writing, and for that Abraham was grateful. Dr. Seward was polite enough to grace him with a laboratory in the basement of the hospital, near enough to the morgue that he could perform autopsies in what little down time he had. As it was, there were no deceased patients suffering from the bizarre anemia ailment, but that was no matter. There was much that could be learned from the living.

His night had been passed largely without rest of any kind, for he got caught up at the hospital speaking with some of the patients. He interviewed a few of Dr. Seward’s psychiatric patients to little avail. Ramblings about bats and dark spectres and a creature with red eyes mostly. Evidently the hospital was not up to standard in terms of pest control, which he supposed could be related to the high incidence of seemingly causeless fevers. He opened his notebook, scribbling his observations during a pause between patients.

_ Mar. 27 _

_ St. Mary’s Hospital, Whitby _

_ Notes _

_ Mr. Harker: Brain fever, contracted during a trip to Eastern Europe _

  * _High fever, hallucinations of “creatures and castles.”_

_ Preliminary observations: fever was well over what is considered typical for most ailments, with no sign of wound or other known triggers. Hallucinations, as indicated by Dr. Seward, seem difficult to place. Until further communication from Nurse Murray it is difficult to say whether the fever or the mental infirmity came first. Lowering the fever is our primary goal. _

_ Prescript.: Willow bark mixture and an ice bath. Note: tell Nurse Westenra to strictly prevent any nurse or physician from performing bleeding. Laudanum will be given to keep Mr. Harker calm. _

_ Anemia: Iron, as well as cod-liver oil to support nutrition. _

The first necessity of the day would be the selection of an anemic patient who would not be placed in a perilous condition upon the extraction of blood for a biopsy. The young women that Dr. Seward introduced him to previously were far too ill to part with even a small blood draw, and their odds were looking progressively more grim with each passing hour. How strange it was to meet a disease unnamed and more murderous than phthisis. It was a bad sign in any hospital when the later-stage consumptive patients seemed in good health compared to other patients.

He had not banked on the overwhelming demand for bleedings in the old-fashioned countryside. Of course, modern theory stated that in most cases the act of bleeding was at best a placebo and at worst dangerous, but in the case of hardier patients there was little harm done. The average layman would not know that the amount of blood taken would be below the standard therapeutic volume, but that was of no matter. They would have peace of mind, for a time, and the medical value of calm was not to be underestimated.

“Doctor,” an odd voice said behind him as he finished administered a few of his best leeches onto the arm of an unwell mason. “Are leeches not outdated?”

Abraham turned to find Dr. Seward’s student behind him. “Mr. Dracula,” he said pleasantly. “I presume that Dr. Seward has taught you on matters pertaining to wound care?”

“Dr. Seward teaches very little, and when he does it is on matters of the mind,” Mr. Dracula said with a smile, standing just a few inches too close beside him. “Perhaps you could do me the pleasure of teaching me?”

Abraham considered it briefly. He was uncertain of whether he may be overstepping should he instruct Dr. Seward’s student, but then again, he was one of Dr. Seward’s anatomy professors. “The scarificator is the more modern approach, as you know,” he started, lifting the metal instrument from his bag and handing it to Mr. Dracula. “The number of spring-loaded blades varies, but this one contains ten.”

“The depth and width of the incisions are all identical?” Mr. Dracula asked, turning the scarificator over in his pale hands.

“That is correct,” Abraham nodded. “However, the instrument is rather prone to uncleanliness, and I find I must bleach it in chlorine or wipe down each blade with iodine after every use, rendering it rather inconvenient.”

“Uncleanliness?” Mr. Dracula asked, odd eyes flickering to him with interest.

“Infection, Mr. Dracula,” Abraham corrected. “These,” Abraham gestured to his leeches, “are the much safer, more traditional approach. Infection is limited due to the shallow nature of the wounds, and it is much quicker to cleanse the bite than to sanitize blades.”

“Is this what you teach at Barts?” Mr. Dracula asked with an amused grin, handing the scarificator back to him.

“No, I’m an anatomist,” Abraham conceded. “While I often act as a physician in the hospital, my skills in teaching lie strictly in the surgical theatre.”

“Where you perform autopsies?” Mr. Dracula asked. Abraham glanced anxiously to the patient, who had nothing better to do than listen to their conversation. As eager as he was to discuss his current cadaver (an older gentleman, dead due to cancer of the alimentary tract), it would be prudent not to stress his current, living patient.

“I would be more than happy to discuss the nature of my lectures with you in a more private setting,” Abraham said politely.

“Dinner tonight, then?” Mr. Dracula asked. Abraham balked, unused to such forwardness, even from a prospective student.

“I have plans to look at tissue samples with Nurse Westenra,” Abraham said awkwardly.

“Surely you will need to eat, though?” Mr. Dracula pressed. Abraham would have squirmed away from the conversation were it not for the watchful eyes of both Mr. Dracula and the patients nearby. Best not to admit that he had not been planning to leave the hospital until well after midnight.

“I suppose so,” Abraham said stiffly. “Though I should warn you that my lectures do not make for the best meal-time conversations.”

“I have a very strong stomach,” Mr. Dracula said with a strange smirk. Abraham was relieved when he saw that the leeches were engorged, which meant he had an excuse to leave the conversation in favor of removing the creatures and returning them to their jar. He wiped down the bites with an iodine solution, wrapping the patient’s arm with clean bandages.

“Is this not excessive, given the nature of the wounds?” Mr. Dracula asked as Abraham left the patient. It appeared that whatever teachings Mr. Seward provided were not adequate in mitigating his student’s curiosity. Abraham sighed as he realized that Mr. Dracula was intent on following him as he made his rounds.

“Wrapping and sterilizing any wound is the best way to prevent infections,” Abraham said patiently. “I have seen cases of septicemia brought on by untreated wounds as small as a scrape.”

“Septicemia?” Mr. Dracula asked.

“Infection that becomes pandemic to the body’s systems, nearly always fatal in nature,” Abraham rattled off.

“It can be caused by a simple scrape?” Mr. Dracula asked in disbelief. “Humans are such fragile creatures.”

“Quite,” Abraham said, distracted as they reached the two patients from the previous day. He paused by their beds, checking the pulses of one, then the other. Quick heartbeat, fragile pressure. Their skin was cool and clammy to the touch.

“Mr. Dracula, would you be so kind as to hand me the bottles of iron and cod-liver oil from my bag?” He asked politely. With Nurse Westenra off being helpful elsewhere, he was left without an assistant. “Actually, hand me the diluted chlorine solution first.”

“Chlorine?” Mr. Dracula asked as he handed him the opaque bottle. He watched with mild interest as Abraham poured the mixture onto his hands, rubbing them vigorously together.

“Sanitization,” Abraham said with a smile. “The latest discoveries in the field of microscopy indicate that disease is brought on by microscopic organisms, which can be found on anything from instruments to skin.”

“You’re suggesting that there are invisible animals that cause illness?” Mr. Dracula asked, raising a dark brow. Abraham nodded.

“Odd, I know, but already I have seen dramatic shifts in surgical outcomes in my own theatre as a result to sanitizing my hands, instruments, and the skin of my patients. It’s such a simple change, really, and can do no harm to try,” Abraham said brightly. There truly was no greater joy than that of medical discovery.

“From something as simple as chlorine bleach?” Mr. Dracula asked.

“As well as the frequent washing of hands between surgeries and patients,” Abraham added. “I’ve tried to convince the other doctors at Barts to take it up as a habit, but they seem not to trust the initial results that I’ve seen.” Mr. Dracula handed him the two other bottles, one of iron and one of cod-liver oil.

“And what results have you seen?” Mr. Dracula asked with polite interest.

“Drastically reduced infection around surgical sites, as well as a decrease in inflammation, fever, and recovery time,” Abraham said as he prepared the iron supplements. “Ah, another thing to note, Mr. Dracula, is that I would typically prefer to administer the cod-liver oil after a meal, but since these patients are unable to eat at present I am making an exception.”

“I see,” Mr. Dracula nodded. “Iron helps with anemia, then?”

“Yes,” Abraham nodded, filling a needle-less syringe with the oil and squirting it far enough back so as to bypass the need for swallowing. “Cod-liver oil supports nutrition and healing. Did you know that Dr. Lister observed that patients treated with carbolic-acid bandages fared better following surgeries?”

“I did not,” Mr. Dracula said. Abraham figured he was boring him, but if he wanted to learn, he needed to be taught the most modern medical approaches.

“Dr. Joseph Lawrence, an American, has developed as most exciting surgical astringent,” Abraham said eagerly. “I’ve been working to obtain some samples for Barts, but my supervisors keep condemning it as American ‘snake-oil’ medicine.”

“Which is...?” Mr. Dracula asked with adeptly faked interest.

“‘Snake-oil’ is a term for falsified medical treatments which become popularized due to charismatic salesmen in the States,” Abraham said earnestly. “It’s a large reason why we so rarely hear of legitimate advancements from our American physicians. But Listerine is a treatment with legitimate potential!” Abraham urged. “I would distill it myself if the formula weren’t so difficult to obtain,” he added miserably.

“I suppose you would have us all bathe in it prior to work?” Mr. Dracula asked in jest. He unwittingly, however, stepped right into one of Abraham’s many crusades.

“I believe we  should bathe more regularly,” Abraham said. “However, not in Listerine or any other surgical astringent. If microorganisms are anything like macro-organisms, they ought to be able to develop resistances through evolution, which would lead to apocalyptic effects should they be exposed too often to environmental pressures. So, I believe we should-”

“Doctor!” Nurse Westenra ran quickly over to the two of them, clearly in some state of distress. Abraham looked her up and down, and finding no sign of injury deduced it must be due to some issue with a patient.

“Nurse Westenra, what seems to be the matter?” Abraham asked seriously.

“It’s Mr. Harker,” she said, catching her breath. “I fear that if we do not sedate him he may work himself into a fatal state of fever.”

“Has it risen?” Abraham asked as he followed her back towards the psychiatric wing, in which Mr. Harker had his own room.

“Frightfully so,” Nurse Westenra urged. “His pulse is well above one hundred beats per minute as well.”

“And the ice bath I requested?” Abraham urged. “Has it been prepared?”  
“I have not heard whether or not it’s ready,” Nurse Westenra said gravely. “I administered the willow bark tincture, as you suggested. He threw it up.”

“He must swallow it,” Abraham said sharply. “I have a clean syringe we can use to get it down his throat. A heavy dose of laudanum will make him easier to handle.”

“We injected him with morphine not long ago,” Nurse Westenra said with a shake of her head. “He slept for a few hours, but now I’m afraid he’s quite unwell.”

She was not exaggerating. Poor Mr. Harker was thrashing against both Dr. Seward and Nurse Murray, speaking quite incoherently about his hallucinations. His reaction to the added presences of himself and Mr. Dracula were severe, even to the point at which Abraham shoved Mr. Dracula unceremoniously back into the hall.

“My apologies, Mr. Dracula, but I’m afraid that this case is a bit beyond the scope of today’s lessons,” Abraham said as he got him back out into the hall. He returned his focus to Mr. Harker, gently taking Nurse Murray’s place by his side and pinning Mr. Harker securely against the bed.

“Professor, I don’t recall ever seeing a case quite like this one,” Dr. Seward admitted. “I fear for his safety should he be left alone.”

“I would fear more for the fever,” Abraham said rigidly. “Is the ice bath prepared?” He asked, directing the comment at Dr. Seward and Nurse Murray.

“It’s prepared, but it’s downstairs,” Nurse Murray said weakly. “Will we be able to transport him there without causing injury?”

“Nurse Westenra, Nurse Murray, go get the rolling bed,” Dr. Seward instructed. Abraham briefly left his position of holding down the violently distressed body of Mr. Harker, turning instead to Nurse Murray.

“Nurse Murray, I know that he is your fiancé and it is natural for you to feel heightened concern for his safety and well-being,” Abraham said as quickly and gently as he could. “Any injury he sustains in transport will be negligible compared to the lasting damage of such a high fever, and I assure you we will do our best to keep him from harm.”

“I--” Nurse Murray started, though she was cut off by Nurse Westenra pulling her into the hallway, hopefully to procure the bed. In a psychiatric ward there was a good chance such a bed would have restraints, which would aid in their mission to move Mr. Harker quickly and without injury. Alone, however, they had a different mission.

“Dr. Seward, you will aid me in removing as much of Mr. Harker’s sweat-soiled garments as possible,” Abraham said sharply. “And you will review the lessons on managing fevers as soon as you have spare time. It is criminal that he should have been allowed to suffer so long with such a fever, even if he is a psychiatric patient.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Dr. Seward said bitterly, stripping off the filthy clothes. Because of the presence of ladies they left his undergarments, though to stave off skin infection they would need to be replaced as well.

“Once he is in the bath, I expect you to procure clean garments for him as well as a clean bed in a calmer ward,” Abraham shouted over the fervent cries of Mr. Harker. Something about Mr. Dracula and castles and nighttime attacks. He turned as he heard Nurse Westenra return.

“Sir, the bed is ready. Shall we bring it in?” She didn’t flinch, even though Mr. Harker was inadequately clothed. Her iron constitution was one of her many graces as a nurse.

“Yes,” Abraham nodded. “And Nurse Westenra?” He added as she turned to leave.

“Yes, sir?” She asked.

“Don’t allow Nurse Murray to see him like this. Not until after we’ve cleaned him and settled his fever a bit,” Abraham added. She nodded and left to wheel in the bed.

All that remained was the herculean task of getting an unwilling young man into a bath of ice water. Abraham suddenly missed his consumptive patients, their issues seemingly mild compared to whatever nightmare this was.

* * *

_ [Written in Shorthand] _

_ Ivy Cottage, Whitby, _

_ May. 5, 1884. _

_ My dear Mina, _

_ In spite of some tribulation, I have arrived at Bran Castle. My client, who prefers to be referred to as ‘Count,’ is a most gracious host, though I must complain of the schedule he maintains. It as if the man is completely nocturnal, keeping me up all evening with his tales and inquisitions. Twice now he has caught me in my dressing gown and interrupted my night time reading. Now, I know what you are thinking: ‘But Johnathan, are we two also not nocturnal creatures, sitting awake as the moonlight flares and fades, bent over our desks in deep study?’ To this I say, at least I know it is time to rest when the candle wax overflows from the dish. _

_ Regardless, I should not complain. The Count is an interesting man of rich taste and richer generosity. Oh, Mina, how I wish you could have come with me on this odd adventure! Wolves and black horses and locals who pressed crosses into my hands as I traveled along and now this, a true and proper castle. You would have found the whole endeavor quite thrilling, I’m sure, but then I could never imagine you parted from the sea. Have you been in contact with your friend Lucy yet? Remember you promised me that you would invite her to visit in my absence. _

_ I will close my letter here and wait in anticipation of your reply. As charming as the Count is, I do so miss our clever conversation. _

_ Your Friend and Companion, _

_ Johnathan _

_ Johnathan Harker, _

_ Bran Castle, Transylvania. _

Mina paced the main ward as Lucy rested on the edge of a bench, though the swirl of her skirt did little to fan the flames rampant within her heart. ‘Heightened concern for his safety and well-being’ indeed. That doctor spoke to her as if she should be overcome with her own wicked feverishness upon seeing Johnathan struggle and cry, as if she should faint for the fear of it, as if she hadn’t been the very one to travel to Buda-Pesth to retrieve him, as if she alone hadn’t nursed his hysteria through the long journey home to Whitby. As if she were to be made utterly incompetent by fright. She would have found it amusing had it not been so very insulting.

“Come now, Mina.” Lucy’s sweet voice pierced the haze of red anger. Her friend’s hand came to rest upon her shoulder but Mina shrugged her off. “Mina,” Lucy repeated, “Dr. Van Helsing will take care of Johnathan, you needn’t fret.”

“I don’t fret.” Mina said. “I simply wish to be able to witness the state of my fiancé. I do not trust Seward to treat him in this time of crisis.” She paused and cast a look of longing towards the doorway she knew Johnathan had been taken through.

“Perhaps so but you trust me, correct?” Lucy said. “And I trust Dr. Van Helsing. He will break Johnathan of his fever then we will decide how best to proceed.”

“Yes,” Mina admitted reluctantly, “I trust you.” She sat heavily beside her friend. There was a long silence, in which Lucy wrapped her arm comfortingly about Mina. Mina leaned into her and sighed with weariness. “I received your note and am well prepared to answer your questions. However, I fear my answers may well be as nonsensical and half-formed as the ramblings of our dear Johnathan.”

She debated for a moment the wisdom of her words before standing. “It will be most simple to explain the situation through the lens of letters.” She explained as she moved quickly across the ward.

“Letters?” Lucy asked. She took to Mina’s heel as she strode from the hospital ward and into the small branch of office space allocated to the nurses. Without hesitation, she swept the single desk free of paper and snatched her shoulder bag from its place discarded against the wall. She dug into the bag and released a whirlwind of parchment across the desk.

“Letters.” Mina confirmed as Lucy continued to observe with concerned interest. With deft hand, she selected five papers from the mountainous pile and laid them flat before Lucy.

“May 5th.” She instructed as a teacher would, letting her fingers trace across the page. “As I’m sure I have told you, Johnathan has recently taken a position as a solicitor for a Mr. Peter Hawkins. The sum of his work in this regard has been to aid in the relocation of a count hailing from Bran Castle in Transylvania.”

“A count?” Lucy asked curiously. Lucy seemed inclined to grasp her tight and draw her to sit but Mina was in need of the desk in order to deliver this tale of woe and thus pulled away once more.

“A count,” Mina confirmed, examining the long memorized letter before her, “one without a clear name or conscious as far as I can ascertain. Johnathan supplied that he preferred to maintain a low profile and was therefore unwilling to share his odious details of his life, though I am baffled by the notion of a surname being odious.”

Lucy frowned and bent to read the letter. “It may be that he is ashamed of his family name?” She said uncertainty. Mina could tell she struggled to decipher the complex shorthand and felt a sting of pride for her and Johnathan’s success.

“Yes,” Mina answered, “yes, that is what I believed as well and may have continued to believe had it not been for the letters which came after.” She stepped down the desk and lifted the next into her hands. “‘May 8th.’” She read. “‘The Count is truly a strange man. I try not to make comment of his habits for, of course, I am a foreigner and thus naive to local tradition and superstitions. Yet, Mina, I must admit I grow uneasy within the confines of the castle. Why, only this morning, the Count has met me in my quarters and, in an exhibition of uncharacteristic rage, thrown my shaving glass from the window. He claims the looking glass to be a symbol of mortal vanity, which I suppose I can respect. Nevertheless, the incident has made me anxious.’”

Lucy carefully took the letter from her. “That is most unusual.” She said.

“And it does not end there.” Mina said gravely. “On May 13th, the very language of his letters turned unnatural.” She beckoned Lucy to the desk and guided her hand to the third letter. “Look here.”

Lucy appeared relieved to finally have been gifted words written in the common tongue. She tilted her head to one side, as if deep in contemplation. “Mina,” she said at last, “this letter appears perfectly normal.”

“Exactly!” Mina cried, voice ringing into the concave ceiling of the small office. “Study closely the inflection, the word choice, the horrid tension in his tone, the affection...” Mina tapered off as she realized her mindless blunder.

“The affection?” Lucy’s laughter was tinged yellow with discomfort. “I should hope your fiancé is affectionate towards you.” She peered into Mina’s averted eyes like one divining. “Is he not? For I promise you, should your future husband treat you ill, there is no god in heaven which will prevent me from-”

“He is well.” Mina appeased her friend’s righteous anger. “He is wonderful. We avoid such trivialities as proclamations of love and silly fondness within our correspondence. After all, postage is expensive and we are confident in our mutual devotion. There has never been any need to...describe it.” She concluded weakly.

Lucy nodded, though the thin pull of her mouth communicated her disbelief. “More of your usefulness?” She asked.

“Indeed. And then,” Mina produced the fourth letter as a magician produces a rabbit from the velvet flap hidden within his top hat, “this. May 17th. Fine at first glance, yes?” Lucy nodded her agreement. “And yet, within lie errors so abundant as to be blaring.” She pointed to her name. “See the shape of the  M  in my name, the way the end curls down instead of up. And here, here, the usage of the term ‘beloved,’ an endearment which Johnathan has never assigned me.”

Lucy appeared unconvinced by her assessment so Mina fixed her with a lethal stare, the manner of which was usually reserved for calming violent patients and forcing Johnathan to part from his law books. “I know my fiancé’s hand better than even my own.” Mina said seriously. She grasped Lucy’s shoulders, knuckles white for her intensity. “Lucy, I implore, no, I beg you to believe me when I say that Johnathan did not pen these last letters. They are written to mimic him and with ill intent.”

Lucy looked long upon the desk then faced her once more. “I believe you.” She said firmly. “Always. Do you know what happened at that castle to necessitate such a forgery?”

“The only conclusion I have been able to draw is that the count was holding Johnathan captive.” Mina said. “The fifth letter is taken from a convent in Buda-Pesth. A kind sister of the order wrote to inform me that Johnathan had come there, shaking, cold, out of his mind with misery and fear. His condition has only worsened since I first saw him but constantly he mumbles of wolves circling carriages and men climbing backwards down stone walls and women who cast no shadow.”

“Women?” Lucy asked, tone bridging to distaste as she no doubt formed some imagined scene of Johnathan lying with another woman across fine silken sheets.

Mina shook her head. “You needn’t worry about their sex but the lack of shadows.” She stressed.

Lucy’s full and careless voice dropped as her brow knit together. “Mina,” she said in bewilderment, “are you attempting to imply a supernatural element to this story?”

Mina grimaced, suddenly uncomfortable with the pile upon the desk and the larger collection of newspaper clippings, pillaged book passages, and written notes plastered along the wall of Johnathan’s locked study. “It’s not supernatural,” she stated cautiously, “if it’s true.”

“Mina…” Lucy began sympathetically.

“I am not a madwoman.” Mina asserted. “You claimed to believe me before.”

“I do believe you.” Lucy said gently. She gracefully pried Mina’s hands from her shoulders, cradling them to her breast. “I simply ask you to consider that the stress of this matter--”

“Not you too.” The fragment of hopefulness lodged in Mina’s heart surrendered itself to frigid despair. She ripped her hands away from Lucy. “I am not some swooning, helpless young woman, driven to desperation by a bit of mania and bloodshed.” She hissed. “You above all others should know that. Now, I say to you that my fiancé was held against his will in Transylvania and I say that the circumstances of those days confined have taken an intense toll upon his health and mentality and I say most of all that everything I have seen, read, and heard support that he has been assaulted by something other than ourselves.”

Lucy bit her lip, a measure of distant fear playing across her fine features. “A monster? Or some manner of fiend?”

“I do not know. But strangeness has latched fast upon Johnathan. And I fear he has brought it home with him.” Mina closed her eyes to beat away the whispers of nightmares lurking behind her eyelids and summoned a gossamer smile for Lucy’s benefit. “I must go attend to Renfield at present. Will you go make sure those foolish doctors do nothing to further aggravate Johnathan’s hysteria while I am absent?”

“Of course.” Lucy said. Her composure had returned, leaving Mina to wonder whether the fear she had spied prior had been for her benefit or hindrance. While she knew Lucy would not condemn her to a madwoman’s fate, she would not put it past Seward or even her friend’s dear doctor.

Lucy hesitated before departing, trapping Mina in another tight hug. “Be safe.” Lucy whispered into her pinned hair.

“I do not believe that is up to me.” Mina replied, though she relented when Lucy stiffened. “I will try.”

Lucy nodded once and then she was gone, condemning Mina to ache for the lack of warmth and softness. She turned and collected her papers back into her shoulder bag, stopping as a particular letter caught her eye.

_ 54 Oxford Street, London, _

_ Dec. 11, 1882. _

_ Dear Mina, _

_ I write to you both to extend an apology and an invitation. First and foremost, the apology. It was not my intention to startle you as I did on the street nor to upset you and your intimate companion. Furthermore, I understand that my sudden and intent proposal may have been unwelcome considering we had not met more than five minutes prior. I allowed myself to become overexcited at the notions which took me, of an arranged marriage in which we needn’t be partners in the romantic sense. Nevertheless, however, you accepted my proposal at the time of its making and thus we move to the invitation. I would be most happy to have you for dinner on Friday at the restaurant directly adjacent to your apartment. Though I can tell you are a most thoughtful and intelligent soul, I wish to learn more about you and, at the current time, know frightening little. And, naturally, I will be glad to pay for your meal. _

_ Once more, I apologize for the suddenness of my proposal. And do extend my deepest apologies to the other woman who was with you. _

_ Yours Humbly, _

_ Johnathan _

_ Johnathan Harker, _

_ 71 Downing Street, London. _

She wasn’t sure how this letter had come to lay within her traveling files. It did not relate, after all, to her current investigation. Regardless, Mina smiled fondly at the memory it mustered and folded the letter carefully into her pocket before moving on to attend to Renfield.

* * *

The mere thought of anyone not adoring Mina Murray was completely incomprehensible and thus threw Lucy into a state of ill temper. If there was anyone on the face of this green earth who deserved to be beloved, it was her and the thought that Mina would willing forgo that which naturally should be hers frightened Lucy more than possessed wolves and shadowless women.

As she put supplies together for some other patient, she let her mind thrash through what she had just learned. While she trusted Mina implicitly and entirely, the basic laws of physics would disagree. Moreover, what use would a shamed count have for not only imprisoning, but also impersonating Jonathan Harker, a man who has made enemies with exactly no one for as long as he has lived? Mina’s word choice was also particularly interesting. The evil had ‘followed him home’ and she didn’t seem to imply any level of metaphor. This, coupled with Mina’s inability to ensure her own safety, made Lucy’s blood run cold.

It would be particularly interesting indeed, if she recalled correctly, that Jonathan seemed to have the most adverse reaction to being in the same room as Dr. Seward’s new student. Lucy shook the thought away from her head. It was simply absurd to think that a Transylvanian count would want to follow an English solicitor to a tuberculosis and psychiatric ward for the grand purpose of what? There was nothing Lucy could wrap her head around what would be worth that intense amount of effort.

For all of her lashing mental rambling, Lucy had completely failed to notice that she was not alone. Instead, she was joined by none other than Mr. Dracula, who said nothing, but stared at Lucy with strange, ruddy eyes. Now that she could finally take a look at him, Lucy found that this man looked dreadful, even by the standards of other medical students. He could have had attractive features, sure, if his skin were not so pale and waxy and his eyes not so sunken into his face. More than that, Mr. Dracula looked off in a way that sent spiderlings skittering along Lucy’s spine.

“Hello, Mr. Dracula,” she asked pleasantly, returning her eyes to the work at hand. “How are you enjoying your residency with Dr. Seward? I have heard many things about the man and I hope your travels were worth it.”

“Who said anything about travel?” Mr. Dracula’s voice rumbled a low baritone and the tone itself ran thick as molasses.

“Pardon me for assuming,” Lucy said quickly, putting intense focus on straightening her dress so she would not have to look at him. “Dracula is just clearly not an English name and your accent is quite strong. I would have assumed you hailed from eastern Europe, perhaps near Buda-Pesth.” 

“Westenra is not an English name, either. Have you traveled from Holland?” There was not a fleck of emotion in his voice. Perhaps it was rude to bully this man about his origins, but it was the only thing she had to go on that might shed light on her dear Mina’s situation.

“I have not,” Lucy answered sweetly. “My father was a Dutch merchant before he settled in England, but I myself have never left the country. I feel as though I might enjoy it, though. Nurse Murray has told me many fantastic tales about her travels to the east.” Lucy thought for a moment before continuing. “There are many strange tales of creatures kept in castles, are there not? I would say it is an interesting pattern, but such is the way of folklore.” The air in the room seemed to turn sour as Mr. Dracula did not answer. “In any case, what is it that you seek here, but cannot find at home?”

“An adequate teacher,” Mr. Dracula snapped.

“Is Dr. Seward the one you desire?” Lucy thought the question was very clever. If he was content to be Dr. Seward’s protege, then he had not real interest in Jonathan or his case.

“No, of course not,” the man dropped his voice. “The man is an incomprehensible idiot who will do nothing to advance the medical field.”

“Then who?” Lucy asked, having a strong suspicion she knew the answer.

“Dr. Van Helsing, of course. He is the only competent man here. Who wouldn’t want to learn from the best? I’m hoping he will take me on as an apprentice. Together, I feel, we could change the very course of medicine.” A smile, sharp and disfigured, spread across Mr. Dracula’s pallid face. Lucy was no expert in the dental sciences, but two sets of canine teeth were certainly not the norm among humans.

“How very strange,” Lucy said, willing her voice to be as breezy as the spring night despite the jealousy that pricked along her stomach. “Dr. Van Helsing and I were called here on very short notice. How lucky you are that we showed up, considering your distaste for Dr. Seward. Unlucky for you, Dr. Van Helsing is not in any sort of desperate need for an assistant a this time.”

Most importantly, for as much as this Mr. Dracula seemed to want Lucy to believe, he was too stupid to realize she was rapidly gathering evidence against him. Unfortunately for Lucy, the evidence was mostly circumstantial and unconvincing for anyone who did not trust Mina as fervently as she did.

“And who, pray tell, is Dr. Van Helsing’s current assistant?” The wax statue of a man asked.

“Me, of course,” Lucy supplied with no further explanation of her schooling and accomplishments. The next phase of her plan could only work if she was tragically underestimated.

“Oh, surely there is need for someone else, then,” Mr. Dracula said, the strength of his baritone returning. “It would be terribly cruel of the good doctor to expose such a darling girl as you to the horrors of the theatre. Your delicate, woman’s constitution would not sit well with the blood and gore and I would imagine your beauty would be quite distracting to the other men in the audience.”

For as much as his talk of her beauty and implied incompetence made her skin crawl, she had him standing right where she needed him. She curled a stray piece of moon blonde hair around the tip of her finger and turned her head to imply bashfulness. “It is terrible difficult sometimes and I find that many men fear my involvement with the profession.” Lucy knew that to anyone who knew her even in the slightest, this display was thoroughly unconvincing, but to Mr. Dracula, it seemed to work its magic. Men like him seemed to think they could smell the helplessness waft off her like pheromones off a moth, but it was not so. If they were so easily manipulated by Lucy’s tricks, they deserved what she had planned.

Nevertheless, Mr. Dracula circled Lucy like a hungry wolf, appetites of both kinds blazing in his bloody eyes. “I assure you, I do not find your profession frightening. It is a shame that such a pretty girl with pretty lips should have such trouble finding suitors.” Lucy had to fight to suppress her laughter. He gripped her hand and his palm was cool and stiff. “You must grant me the chance to treat you to dinner. I can show you how true men should act.”

Lucy pulled away from his grip, pretending to be scandalized at the touch from a man. She gathered her supplies in her arms and turned towards the door before pretending to think for a moment and turning back. “I would be honored, but I am far too busy tonight.”

“Soon, then,” Mr. Dracula assured her.

“Could you be a darling and write me a note?” Lucy asked, filling her eyes with mock innocence. “I would do it myself, but I’m afraid my hands are rather preoccupied.” Mr. Dracula grabbed a pen and paper and waited for Lucy’s message to herself. “Write:  _Attend the Murrain and Myrtle with M_r … what is your first name again?” she asked.

“Vlad,” he said, writing it in his script.

“Vlad,” she sighed with romantic theatrics. “ With Mr. Vlad Dracula. This Friday come rain or shine .”

“I look forward to our meeting,” Mr. Dracula said as he placed the note on top of the blankets. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to Dr. Seward.”

Lucy examined the note to find exactly what she was after. The ‘M’s’ that Mr. Dracula had written were formed exactly as Mina had shown her in Jonathan’s forged letters. There could hardly be any doubt of his involvement with her dear Jonathan’s strange case. As much as she would have loved to rush her new evidence straight to Mina, she had to continue with her normal work and then aid Dr. Van Helsing.

The rest of the day advanced without much trouble or interference save from awkward run ins with Arthur and Quincy. When she entered Dr. Van Helsing’s lab, she felt entirely in her element. The two of them worked, exchanging notes and observations for nearly an hour before the strangest notion caught their attention.

“Sir,” Lucy said as she brought her sample closer to the doctor. “Do you think it’s strange that the blood has not started to coagulate?”

Dr. Van Helsing hummed and brought her sample to compare with his own. “I was just noting that it does not seem to be able to clot at all.” He sighed and stood up in frustration. “I suppose it is not impossible considering we are seeing it with our own eyes, but I haven’t heard of anything like it.” He rifled through his tools and handed Lucy a grid and directed her towards the microscope. “Please tell me what percent of this blood is red blood cells.”

Lucy set to work counting and counting and counting. It didn’t take long for her to realise a pattern. Where healthy human blood was typically 35-40% red blood cells, this sample was skewing far higher. She wracked her head for what she had learned in school. If a patient has a lower percentage of red blood cells then they were anemic, if they had higher, well, that wasn’t a thing that happened.

“Sir, I believe this sample is around 60% red blood cells,” Lucy called to Dr. Van Helsing.

“That cannot be,” he said as he appeared at her back. She left her post and allowed him to look, sure enough, there was a look of confusion and mild horror spread across his face. “I have never seen anything like that.” He got out of his chair and paced. “This would suggest that whatever had been injected into the bloodstream must has stimulated red blood cell production, but for what purpose? It seems almost as if a giant leech injected its saliva into their blood.”

“Sir, I regret to inform you that there is no such giant leech,” Lucy said softly, patting him on the shoulder. If there was, he most certainly would have tamed it and be keeping it as his beloved pet.

Suddenly, a smile ran true across Dr. Van Helsing’s face. He quickly paced around the laboratory, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a child at Christmastime. “Nurse Westenra! I think we have discovered a new pathogen! We simply must write a new paper about our findings and then we can present it at the next conference. You and I shall take the medical world by storm and then everyone must take us seriously.”

“That sounds delightful, sir,” Lucy said, pleased at the good doctor’s breakthrough. “But perhaps we should discover more before we commit ourselves to a life of fame and fortune. Also, perhaps it would do us good to observe Mr. Harker’s case in conjunction with these.”

“Yes, yes, very well.” Dr. Helsing sat in a chair, still squirming like an anxious five year old. “What have you learned about the case?’

Lucy regaled Dr. Van Helsing with all the information Mina had revealed to her. “Truly, I don’t know what to make of the supernatural elements,” Lucy admitted, “But if Jonathan was held captive in a castle with some manner of monster, it would explain why he has contracted the brain fever. Furthermore, I would suggest banning Mr. Dracula from seeing the case. His presence seems to only intensify Mr. Harker’s symptoms and the circumstances of his arrival and origin seem suspect.”

“Nurse Westenra, you are not seriously suggesting that our sweet, young Mr. Dracula is secretly a count who holds young Englishmen captive in his Transylvanian castle? Perhaps some of Nurse Murray’s nerves have rubbed off on you.”

“I am merely suggesting his being here seems like a series of increasingly unlikely coincidences,” Lucy said patiently. Perhaps some of Dr. Seward’s rampant misogyny was rubbing off on her dear doctor. “Also, I thoroughly believe Nurse Murray should be able to see her fiancé’s case. She is the most capable person I know and keeping her in the dark about things she already understands is nonsense. Her presence calms him and she is no wilting flower the way you seem to think she is. I’ve known her for longer than I’ve known you, and I say she is capable.”

“And of course I believe you,” Dr. Van Helsing said. He looked as if he would say more when there was a knock on the laboratory door. Lucy opened it and was greeted with none other than Mr. Dracula.

“Welcome, welcome!” Dr. Van Helsing sprang to his feet again. “You seek to be a man of medicine, do you not?”

“I do indeed, sir.” Mr. Dracula rumbled, casting his eyes over to Lucy who held samples of blood in her hands and fire in her eyes.

“Nurse Westenra and I have found what we believe could be a brand new pathogen! This could be the discovery of the century! Have you heard anything of these cases of puncture wounds and anemia?”

“I confess that I have heard very little,” Mr. Dracula murmured, still not taking his eyes from Lucy.

“Sir, perhaps it is not a good idea to talk about this pathogen so freely when we know next to nothing about it and with people we barely know,” she added bitterly.

“Well then, we will come to know Mr. Dracula. I am having dinner with him later tonight, so we might as well start now. When did you come to this grand institution?” He asked.

“Approximately four weeks ago,” Mr. Dracula answered, with no further explanation.

“Sir, is that not about when the anemia cases started to be reported? What a curious coincidence,” Lucy said hollowly and was completely ignored by the men in the room. She ignored most of their babbling, but continued to catch references to dinner, and at a relatively unsavory location too. It piqued her interest. She had not thought Dr. Van Helsing was that kind of man. Of course, it was possible that he wasn’t and he was too caught up in medical theory and science to bother to learn how to properly socialize.

Naturally, she should have stayed to make sure Dr. Van Helsing would be alright in the company of this man she was sure was a monster, but she was tired, and wanted desperately to return to Mina.

“Thank you for the work today, sir,” she said as she gathered her things to leave. “And it was a pleasure to officially meet you, Count Dracula.”

The air in the room suddenly turned cold and tense. Mr. Dracula’s bloody eyes settled on her and Lucy could feel they try to burrow their way through the marble of her skin. He was very unsuccessful and his attempt to scare her only made her more bold.

“Nurse Westenra,” Dr. Van Helsing said after another few chilly seconds. “This student is not a count.”

“I don’t hear him denying it, sir,” Lucy said as she left the laboratory to return home.

She raced home to Mina’s ivy cottage as fast as she could, stopping only at the dark and twisted alley from the morning, where she head two people yelling incomprehensibly about who deserved food. As much as she would have loved to try and help, she could not and felt that she must reach Mina before nightfall, even if that was an impossibility.

The house was warm and smelled of sweet bread and honeysuckle flowers. Just a Lucy feared, she was too late, and her dear Mina had already gone to sleep. After a few minutes of contemplation accompanied by her own getting ready for bed, she decided this matter was too pressing to wait until morning.

Lucy tiptoed into Mina’s room and sat on the very edge of her bed before she nudged her shoulder. Mina woke with a fright before Lucy held her hand and calmed her. “I think I have learned the identity of our dear Jonathan’s assailant.”


	3. Chapter III: Monday Evening, 03/27/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham goes to dinner. Mina goes to the seaside. Lucy gets an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!   
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“What a truly odd conversation that was,” Abraham said to himself as Lucy practically fled the small lab. It was quite odd for her to be so distracted during their rare moments of ease in the lab, far from the nigh-constant needs of their patients.  


“Truly,” grumbled Mr. Dracula, drawing back Abraham’s focus.  


“Are you really a count?” Abraham asked with genuine curiosity. He’d never met a count before, to his knowledge. Perhaps at one of the maddeningly stressful symposiums or conferences, but those were always stripped from his memory as soon as possible for his own self-preservation.  


“You could call me an heir of sorts,” Mr. Dracula said defensively. “My family owns a relatively large manor in the east, which has been both pride and pain for centuries.”  


“Ah.” Abraham nodded. He had no idea how to speak about civilized things like manors or money. Microscopes and the thrilling new prospects of disinfectant and laboratory centrifuges were much more his forte. “Shall we go to dinner? I fear that all the dining options may be closed should we wait any longer.”  


Mr. Dracula gave him an odd smile. “The place I had in mind keeps late hours.”  


“Very well then,” Abraham said, discarding his lab coat on the back of a chair. He was in the habit of bringing his medical kit nearly everywhere with him, so he took it with him as they left. “Have you enjoyed Whitby?” He asked as they climbed the many stairs. He figured he must be suffering from lack of air and exercise, for such climbs left him quite breathless. He paused as they reached the top, catching his breath.  


“Are you alright?” Mr. Dracula asked.  


“Quite,” Abraham said, recovering quickly. “I fear that the field of medicine leaves little time for exercise and I am rather out of shape.” He quickly recalled that he recently learned Mr. Dracula was of noble lineage, and felt awkward for such an inconvenience. “I apologize, Mr. Dracula. Or would you prefer Lord or Count?”  


“Mr. Dracula is agreeable,” Mr. Dracula said with a smile. “Though ‘Lord’ does have rather a ring to it, does it not?”  


“I wouldn’t know,” Abraham said as they resumed walking. “My highest title is professor, though all of us may aspire one day to be knighted for our discoveries.”  


“Is that a custom?” Mr. Dracula asked with a laugh. “I thought knights were gone with Chaucer’s days, now only good for childrens’ stories.”  


“It’s still a thriving honour, though I would say it’s utility has become negligible save for being a conversation starter,” Abraham said lightly. “Where precisely are we going?” He asked as the heart of the coastal town came into view.  


“I was picturing perhaps a quick dinner at your inn, and then perhaps you’d grant me the pleasure of taking you on a tour of the town’s night life?” Mr. Dracula said with a sly smile, catching Abraham’s eye. He felt compelled to look away.  


“I’m afraid I may be ill company for such an evening. I don’t tend to spend many nights away from either work or bed,” Abraham confessed.  


“I’m quite certain you will be perfect company,” Mr. Dracula said earnestly. “I know a bar that caters towards interesting people such as ourselves, and conversations of peculiar illnesses and psychiatric patients will pass without so much as a blink of an eye.”  


“I don’t imagine many restaurants would wish to entertain such topics,” Abraham said self-consciously. “I ought to know. Nurse Westenra and I have been asked many a time to lower our voices or, better yet, not to speak at all on such things in public.”  


“How dreadful,” Mr. Dracula said sympathetically. He was quite striking in the dim light of the street. Abraham could swear his eyes shone silvered like a cat’s when the lights hit them exactly right, and he was tall and clad entirely in black without his white laboratory jacket.  


“Yes,” Abraham sighed. “I’ve always scorned small talk, yet the world seems unfavorable to discussions of scientific advancement. I mention fever and everyone in the room looks at me as if I’ve damned them all to the wretched illness.”  


“Human nature seems to fear what it does not understand,” Mr. Dracula said gravely as he opened the door to the inn, elegantly gesturing for Abraham to enter first.  


“Thank you,” Abraham said awkwardly. They grabbed a relatively private booth and were brought ale and whatever was on the menu. Knowing Whitby, it was most likely beer-battered fish and chips.  


“So, Doctor,” Mr. Dracula said, leaning forward and eyeing him particular interest. “Tell me everything about London.”  


“Have you not been?” Abraham asked, sipping half-heartedly at the ale.  


"I fear I’ve known only Whitby,” Mr. Dracula said with remorse. “I keep meaning to head to the city, but travel is difficult in residency and I fear I wouldn’t know where to begin.”  


“That is unfortunate,” Abraham said sympathetically. Their food arrived quickly, since there were few other customers to take up time in the kitchen. Mr. Dracula hardly seemed to touch his. “Barts is beautiful,” Abraham said with a longing sigh. Three days was an agonizingly long amount of time to be parted from his state-of-the-art lab and operating theatre. “The rest of the city is a hygienic nightmare, save perhaps for the palace and some of the highest-class streets.”  


“And where do you live?” Mr. Dracula asked. “Surely a man of status such as yourself does well in such a city.”  


“I have a modest house in Hyde Park,” Abraham said awkwardly. “I do admit, though, I spend many more hours at Barts than I do there, and I would certainly die without the maid who comes and cleans once a week and prepares meals for me on my days off.” This at least earned him a laugh from Mr. Dracula, who seemed under the impression that he was exaggerating. He was not.  


“I suppose that won’t be an issue once you marry Nurse Westenra,” Mr. Dracula said easily. Abraham nearly choked.  


“Marry her?” Abraham asked as he coughed up some ale that went down wrong.  


“Are you two not engaged?” Mr. Dracula asked with an odd expression.  


“Heavens, no!” Abraham said, recovering himself. “What could possibly have given you that impression?”  


“I assumed from her ease with you that you were intimate friends,” Mr. Dracula said with a laughing smile. “My apologies. Are you not partial to the institution of marriage?”  


Abraham leaned back against the booth, wishing desperately for an escape. “I would say I’m decidedly impartial to it,” he admitted. “I have no desire for children, as a family would merely detract from my time at the hospital.”  


“You have no desire for intimate companionship or romance?” Mr. Dracula said, raising an eyebrow. His eyes gleamed with a strange, unintelligible emotion.  


“I haven’t considered it,” Abraham said quickly. “What interested you in medicine?” He said abruptly, steering the conversation inelegantly away from marriage.  


“I’ve always been fascinated by the inner workings of the human body,” Mr. Dracula said with ease. “And you?”  


“Life is delicate,” Abraham said wistfully. “I would like to make it stronger.”  


“Such a romantic pursuit,” Mr. Dracula mused. “Are you nearly finished?” He asked, gesturing to the plate. Abraham’s appetite hadn’t been quite right since they arrived, and he wasn’t inclined to finish the remaining third of his food.  


“I’m ready to leave,” he said as they left the money on the table. “Where, pray tell, are we going?” He asked, hesitant now that they were beyond the minute stretch of street that he recognized.  


“A place where we can speak in peace,” Mr. Dracula said coyly. He stopped abruptly, pulling Abraham to one side. “You’ll look a bit over-dressed with the tie,” he said with a voice like velvet as he loosened the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning his suit jacket.  


“Oh?” Abraham asked, well aware that his cheeks were flushed. As they rounded the corner into a neglected alley, Mr. Dracula not only removed his own tie but also opened the top few buttons of his dress shirt, indecently exposing the base of his neck and part of his chest.  


“I believe you’ll like this place,” Mr. Dracula said slyly. “Though it most likely pales in comparison to others like it in London.”  


Abraham was quite certain that he had no idea what Mr. Dracula was talking about, but he was content to be dragged into a dimly lit bar. With a careful nod to the bar tender, they were led down the stairs and into what was more or less a red-lit back room, complete with luxe oriental carpeting and aesthetically fashionable lighting. Abraham gaped as he noted that there were individuals in various states of undress, and even a couple kissing in the well-cushioned corners of the room. Furthermore, if he was not mistaken, the two kissing were both gentlemen.  


“Where are we?” Abraham asked cautiously as they were seated in their own highly-plush corner, complete with a low tea table and a candle.  


“A place where we may speak more freely,” Mr. Dracula said comfortably as he reclined, undoing even more of the buttons of his shirt.  


“What precisely would you like to discuss?” Abraham asked stiffly, uncertain of how this settling related to medical discoveries regarding illnesses of the blood.  


“I’d like to hear all your theories on the anemia cases, if you’d be so kind,” Mr. Dracula said politely. “And perhaps discuss more of your life in London.”  


“I’m afraid I’m useless in discussing London, though I would be more than happy to host you in a visit,” Abraham sighed. “May I ask how you came to be completing your training with Dr. Seward? I fear he may not be able to provide you the full benefits of a teaching hospital in his specialized psychiatrics and poorly equipped general treatment wards.”  


“Are you inviting me to work under you?” Mr. Dracula perked up. Abraham kicked himself for overstepping his bounds without consulting with Dr. Seward.  


"I suppose so. Only if Dr. Seward is favorable to the arrangement, as well as Nurse Westenra,” Abraham said firmly. “She is my right hand, and I won’t make a decision without her assent.”  


“I understand completely,” Mr. Dracula said with eagerness. “Would you like to know a secret?” Mr. Dracula added with the smile of a fox.  


“I would not, if it breaches confidentiality,” Abraham said nervously. Mr. Dracula looked like he had to stifle a smirk.  


“I believe a passing comment is not warrant for strict secrecy,” he said innocently. “I overheard Dr. Seward talking to the supervisor of St. Mary’s about sending poor Mr. Harker and a few of the anemia cases back to London with you for further treatment.”  


“That is the very definition of a comment that warrants discretion, Mr. Dracula,” Abraham said with horrified sternness. His companion, however, only seemed amused.  


“Come now, Doctor. Gossip is as inevitable as the afternoon rain,” he said with pleasant calm. They were brought a couple rounds of very strong-smelling liquor.  


“Gossip is the downfall of man,” Abraham muttered as he took a hesitant taste of the menacing fluid. It tasted like cough syrup.  


“Are you not fond of absinthe?” Mr. Dracula said. Abraham nearly spat the liquid back into the glass.  


“I cannot imbibe hallucinogens on working evenings!” Abraham said, terrified that even the one sip was enough to incapacitate him should he be called into work.  


“Are you on call?” Mr. Dracula asked, cool as the coastal breeze.  


“No,” Abraham said, pushing the glasses away from him.  


“Then you should be able to relax a bit, should you not?” Mr. Dracula asked, the picture of debauched ease. “It’s difficult for men such as ourselves to find places to be at ease.”  


“I am at ease in the lab,” Abraham cocked his head slightly. “I am also quite at ease with my patients, as well as with Nurse Westenra.”  


“But can you really be yourself there?” Mr. Dracula asked, a playful smile on his lips.  


“I would say so,” Abraham said, uncertain if he was answering the correct question.  


“And they know what you are?” Mr. Dracula asked, eyes sharp and focused despite the liquor he consumed.  


“I would certainly hope they do,” Abraham said. It would be odd if the people around him didn’t know he was a doctor. Perhaps Mr. Dracula was alluding to his age, which in fairness was a sore spot.  


“Then you are a brave man,” Mr. Dracula said with a grin, downing another round of the threateningly-green solution. “Most would go to great lengths to keep themselves hidden. I’m quite surprised it hasn’t caused issues for you at Barts.”  


“I’m...not sure if I follow,” Abraham said. “I don’t believe the hospital minds that I’m the age of some of the professors’ sons, considering it was the school that gave me my medical degree,” he reasoned out loud. Mr. Dracula raised his elegant brows and laughed. “Are you quite alright?” Abraham asked.  


“Yes, my dear Doctor,” Mr. Dracula said once he recovered himself. “Though I must say, you are far greater company than you give yourself credit for.”  
Abraham smiled, though still mildly uncomfortable. “I will take that as a compliment, then,” he said, slightly more at ease.  


“Please do,” Mr. Dracula said with a brilliant smile and strangely bright eyes.

* * *

“Dracula?” Mina asked, mind hazy with befuddlement and the lingering tugs of sleep. The name struck a cord deep within her, though it took a moment to trace the origins. The remembrance of Seward’s most reserved and smug student, however, left her more lost than before. Mina sat up and studied Lucy through the sheen of darkness. 

“You mean to tell me that you believe Mr. Dracula to be the maker of Johnathan’s misery?”  


“I do.” Lucy ascertained, brashness on full display within her stormy gray eyes, so equal to those fearsome storms which swept the harbor and rattled the window panes.  


Mina furrowed her brow and set her brain to work debating intent and interest. She snatched her glasses off the bedside table. With seldom care for her state of relative undress, Mina stood from her bed and walked to the door, faithful that Lucy would follow behind. She stepped onto the front step and scrutinized the street before returning to lock them both inside the ivy sheltered home. “How have you discovered this?” She asked as she bordered the shutters one by one.  


“By cleverness and manipulation of the easily malleable male mind.” Lucy replied with pride. “I have observed Mr. Dracula in his reactions and mannerisms, drawn from him an admittance of foreignness. And here,” she drew from her skirt a small slip of parchment and held it aloft, “an M to match your misuse.”  


Mina took the parchment within hand and adjusted her glasses to better read. She traced the curve of the M in Mr. Dracula’s name with a finger. “Impossible.” She whispered more to her benefit than any other.  


“How do you mean, Mina?” Lucy questioned.  


Mina carded a hand through her loose hair. “Mr. Dracula does not strike me as the type to incite such troubles. While I will admit he is secretive in his conduct, he is also tied to Seward, who cannot be trusted to plan an evening out much less mastermind a nefarious plan, and his incessant need to be validated seems to far outweigh any ill intention.”  


“Though,” she cut Lucy off as the other attempted to interject, “the M combined with this D which so clearly matches the one in the forged letter taken in combination with a general avoidance of intimate questions and his sudden arrival only weeks ago.” She paused and looked wide-eyed upon her friend. “Oh Lucy, you are brilliant!”  


“I am.” Lucy replied with firm self-assurance and a slight smirk, which only delighted Mina further.  


With a burst of fervent happiness, Mina brought her hands to Lucy’s cheeks and kissed her forehead. “We must apprehend him at once.”  


“Apprehend?” Lucy’s content fell away to nervousness in an instant. “Surely we two cannot do so alone.”  


“No,” Mina conceded, disregarding her already half formed murder plans, “I suppose we shouldn’t act rashly.”  


“Listen here,” Lucy said, “I have arranged to have dinner with Mr. Dracula on Friday. Once I have engaged his interest, I will be able to obtain the necessary information for us to proceed under.”  


“Dinner?” Mina twisted her hands in concern. “Is that wise? If Mr. Dracula truly is so dangerous as to imprison and dement Johnathan, I would not have you face him alone.”  


Lucy smiled amicably and broke her hands from their clawing patterns. “Mr. Dracula seems a man of appearances above all else. I doubt he would risk creating issues in such a public place and you know me,” Lucy cocked an eyebrow, “I am never afraid to make a scene.”  


“No, I suppose not.” Mina laughed. “You always have been my superior in that regard.” She tucked the paper with Dracula’s writing sample into a small square and stowed it in the topmost drawer of the bureau. “Still, it would so ease my mind if I could come along. I could be your chaperon.”  


“A role usually reserved for old married women.” Lucy teased. Amazingly, she appeared comfortable in the idea of spending an entire evening alone and in close cohorts to a devil.  


“I am old.” Mina complained with a frown. “Most women my age are long since married and with children as I no doubt would have been if not for the troubles with my fiancé.”  


“Perhaps.” Lucy said. It must have been her imagination, but the air within the room seemed to grow sterner at her assertion. Though, Mina herself may have been to blame for that. She was still cross at herself for fumbling in her assessment of her’s and Johnathan’s casual affections.  


As a means of compensation, Mina summoned a wistful sigh and looked away from Lucy into a nonexistent horizon. “We were already beginning to plan the wedding ceremony, my dear love and I.” She said with carefully laid moroseness. “We wished to be married at Christmastime when the church is filled with holly and kissing boughs and the sea is whipped to a wild white foam.”  


“You will be married soon.” Lucy assured her sweetly. “Under Dr. Van Helsing and my able hands, your finance will be well again in no time at all.”  


“I do hope so.” Mina sighed. She glanced to Lucy out of the corner of her eye. “So I may chaperon then?”  


“No.” Lucy said.  


Mina opened her mouth to protest but decided against it. “Very well.” She muttered. “But I shall not revel in your absence.” She stood straighter and put her hands on her hips, much to Lucy’s amusement. “And I expect a quick return. No dilly dallying around, you are to be home by nine sharp or else I shall come looking for you. I would sooner drag you home by the ear than risk you coming to harm.” Even if Lucy had forbidden her to pursue Dracula at present, it would not be unreasonable to attack in defense of a friend.  


Lucy sighed with put-on melodrama. “Yes, Mother.” She intoned.  


Mina swatted her arm lightly, all playfulness departing from her as the weight of the situation descended. Dracula. The horror of her fiancé’s darkest nightmares and Mina had been beside him all this time. Worse, she had allowed him to be near to Johnathan and to Lucy and would allow him to be near Lucy at least once more.  


Lucy touched her arm comfortingly, rose-lipped smile gentle and kind. “I shall find out everything there is to know of the man. There is no man in the world capable of resisting my ‘feminine wiles.’”  


“And yet no man worthy of you.” Mina said.  


“None.” Lucy confirmed with a grin.  


Mina nodded. “Well, as you whittle away at Dracula’s stiffened exterior and trample his unfounded self-pride, I can provide support in the manner of bookwork. As a nurse of St. Mary’s, I have access to the files describing Dracula’s residency and intended path.”  


“You have access?” Lucy asked doubtfully. “Or you will gain access?”  


“Inconsequential.” Mina waved her off. “Additionally, I can talk with Renfield. He and Dracula have quite closely...bonded...since his arrival in Whitby. I’m sure I can pry information loose from him.”  


“Any aid would be beneficial.” Lucy said, though she seemed put out by the notion of Mina talking to Renfield alone, especially now that she knew he was in association with Dracula. Mina had never been deceptive in the nature of her work nor in the reality that patients such as Renfield could at times grow violent under the pressure of Seward’s prodding and experimentations.  


Mina patted her shoulder. “You take your risks, I take mine.” She said boldly. “Do not deny me my God given right to be stupid for the sake of love.”  
T

hat seemed to draw a smile from Lucy once more. The two talked for a few minutes more, discussing the finer points of Lucy’s conversation with Dracula and making plans for the week to come. By the time they returned to bed, the moon had risen white and full over the cottage, throwing a soft light across the walls to match the soft shade of Lucy’s hair. Though she willed herself to do so, however, Mina found she could not sleep, too distracted by the prospect of nightmarish outcomes and months of time lost. She studied the shape of Lucy in the dim light, the flutter of her eyelids and the rise and fall of her chest. It was impossible to know what Dracula was capable of and suddenly Mina’s chest ached with fear. She could not think to bear it if Lucy was harmed in the pursuit of knowledge Mina had begun. Without intending to, images of Johnathan huddled in some corner of a dingy and cold castle dungeon sprung to mind, only in his place there now lay Lucy, stormy eyes stricken with grief, cheeks hollowed by trauma.  


Mina sat up in bed and shook the thoughts from her mind. It was foolish but as always in times of crisis, her mind wandered to the bench overlooking the sea accompanied by a severe longing for her most sacred and private abode. She glanced to the sleeping Lucy, taking stock of her deep slumber. She wouldn’t be missed.  
Armed with notebook, cap, and a pair of Johnathan’s trousers, intended to make her manish in the dark should she catch the eye of any stray wretch, Mina broke out into the night. It was an easy walk to the chapel from her home and, as expected, the crisp air and the beating heartbeat of pitching waves revived her mood immediately.  
As she settled on the hard backed bench, Mina drew her notebook out and pressed her prized ballpoint pen to the page. 

_ [Written in Shorthand]_

__

_ 27 Mar. Whitby. - It has been many weeks since I last wrote in this notebook. My current predicament, made to be fearful fiancé, mental asylum aid, and tuberculosis nurse all at once has drawn me quite thin and investigation into Johnathan’s case has stolen any free time I may have completely. How fitting it may be, then, that not only has the presence of Lucy gifted me with comfort and energy but also a forward lead. I will admit, I know little about Dracula beyond what I have been told. For all his charm or perhaps arrogance is the better word, he seems wary to talk with any nurse not standing at Seward’s elbow. Still, I believe Lucy’s assessment and the proof of his involvement, at the very least, is there. Which means that I was correct in my assumption. The evil has followed Johnathan home. But for what purpose? That I cannot know and will not make attempts to guess. It would be pointless to spend more time reflecting on the whys. For now I can only hope that this Dracula is truly as helpless to Lucy’s beauty as she claims he is._  


_ I wonder at times why a woman as gorgeous and caring as Lucy has made the decision not to marry. Though she detests the male sex, many women of her same thoughts become engaged for the mere purpose of ensuring economic saftey. I suppose her position under Helsing would allow her the luxury not to._  
I am allowing myself to be distracted.  


_ Renfield. I will have to talk with Renfield about Dracula and hope that, as many nurses and doctors do, he has offered secrets under the assumption that the patient is too far lost to retain them. Once I have_

Mina stopped as a rapid movement to one side of the chapel caught her eye. She strained her eyes through the thickened dark and her ears against the swell of waves on the rocks below yet, when all had solidified, she saw only a mangy dog staring back at her with unhealthy red eyes.  
“Shoo.” She urged the mutt and it turned on its tail and sauntered away. As she watched it depart, she was suddenly overcome with the chill of the evening and drew her jacket tight around her. It was time to return to her warm, quilted bed and to Lucy, who, with any luck, continued to sleep soundly through her brief absence.

* * *

Lucy did not expect to wake up in Mina’s bed, though that is certainly where she fell asleep. Though the sun filled the room with color and birds sang by their window, Lucy could still feel the events of the previous night cling to her skin.  


Mina had kissed her, and though her kisses were not so romantic and rare, they incited something radiant and fluttering in her chest. They always had, even back when they were students. Mina’s kisses had often graced her forehead, hand, and cheek, but never Lucy’s lips, and now she was too late. Mina was engaged to be married, after all, and no friend worth her salt could risk getting between her and the one she loves.  


Mina stirred next to her as her sleep addled eyes fluttered open to behold Lucy in all her barely conscious, bedheadded glory. She was forced to consider for a moment that Mina was unbearably attractive and if she were able, Lucy would hold her tight in her arms and pull her back into the dominion of sweet rest.  


Those, however, were the fantasies of girls, and Mina had no time for them. Lucy quietly extracted herself from the bed and handed her friend her round glasses, which were accepted with joy. She returned to the room which was, in all technicality, hers and set to work getting ready for the day. Everything was going swimmingly until she found that she had trouble fastening the back of her dress. It was a childish problem, truly, and she had figured it out many times before, but with Mina the sole other person in this house, Lucy felt no particular shame in asking for help.  


“Dearest Mina, I’m so sorry to bother you, but could you help me fasten my dress?” she asked as she wandered gracefully into the kitchen clutching the top of her dress to her chest. The smell of coffee and pastries wafted through the air.  
“

Oh!” Mina said, surprised by Lucy’s sudden intrusion. “Of course, one moment.” Lucy watched as she finished cooking the last of breakfast and took the pans off the heat. Mina silently motioned for her to turn around and she made curiously slow work of the buttons and the clasps.  


Lucy held her still loose hair out of the way and closed her eyes as she felt Mina’s gentle breath against her bare skin. She couldn’t bear to speak, lest her voice came out high and shaking like some prepubescent boy’s.  


Mina’s fingers lingered on the nape of her neck for a moment longer than necessary after she finished the final clasp, though Lucy was sure she only imagined it. “Would you like help pinning your hair?” Mina asked once Lucy was sure she cleared her imagination of any unsavory thoughts.  


“Only if you are willing,” she said, far too quickly to appear completely natural.  


“I am,” Mina gave her the faintest ghost of a smile and urged Lucy to sit in a oaken chair. She settled her one hand on her shoulder and gently carded through the ends of Lucy’s hair with the other. Though the motion was sweet and platonic, it filled her with an immeasurable feeling of warmth.  


Mina’s fingernails dragged pleasantly across Lucy’s scalp as she started to separate and twist her hair in all the proper ways. If Lucy were a woman of lesser self control, she would have sighed into her friends tough. Instead, she commanded herself to speak of more practical things.  


“How was your night time escapade?” Lucy asked, a smile playing across her lips. At once, she regretted the question because Mina stopped the gentle work of her hair.  


“So you noticed,” she said, sullenly, though Lucy did not see the cause for such sadness.  


“Naturally I would notice when someone so dear has left my side,” she answered in a feeble attempt to raise the mood. “I assure you, it had no effect on the restfulness of my sleep.”  


Mina nodded slowly and resumed her work, pulling a rogue curl behind Lucy’s ear. That motion and the feeling of her fingers stroking along her hairline gave the firmest impression of sweetness and intimacy. Lucy wished so desperately that she could hold her friend’s hand against her cheek and press soft kisses to her fingers. She shook her head and Mina gave a small noise of displeasure.  


“Do your thoughts assail you?” she asked lightly. “For I assure you I can be of some assistance.”  


“No, not at all,” Lucy said softly. “What does your day have in store for you?” She asked, quickly changing the subject.  


“I will speak to Renfield, as we had discussed before,” Mina laughed and settled her hands back on Lucy’s shoulders when she sensed her ardent displeasure. “He is as harmless as anyone else. Besides, you must deal with the real devil. And Seward too, though I suppose he is more of an idiot than anything else.” she added thoughtfully.  


“When Dr. Van Helsing and I last spoke to Dr. Seward he was telling us how Renfield had a tendency to eat rats and other small creatures,” Lucy wrinkled her nose in a show of mild disgust.  


“I assure you, I am not so small of a creature that I can be eaten,” Mina teased. This drew a laugh from Lucy even though she was still a little fearful. She could not for the life of her fathom why anyone, especially someone as appearance obsessed as Mr. Dracula, would want to associate with such a disgusting man as that.  


“And what may your plans be?” Mina asked.  


“I will attend to Jonathan and perhaps see what others have been able to glean about Mr. Dracula,” a thought popped into Lucy’s head. “Speaking of which, I have spoken to Dr. Van Helsing regarding your complete and total competence in our dear Jonathan’s care. He will most certainly allow you to see him tomorrow. I am sure of it.” Lucy reached towards her shoulder and gently held Mina’s hand beneath hers. “I have assured him that there is neither man nor woman alive who is better suited for his care.”  


Mina wrapped Lucy in a quick hug and pressed her nose to the top of her hair. “Thank you!” she sang. “I’m sure my beloved fiancé will be most grateful!” There was something strange and stilted in her intonation, but Lucy was forced to ignore it in favor of leaving for the hospital.  


The air was sticky with a coolish damp which only intensified when they approached the same alley from before. It seemed as if all the world’s sickness and sadness wanted to coalesce in this one spot of sorry architecture. “What is it that happens here?” Lucy asked as she tried to stop and investigate. There were sounds of a child crying and heavy footsteps a floor above. Unfortunately, Mina only pulled her along.  


“I do not know. It’s best not to think too hard about it when there’s nothing you can do,” she said, casting a worried look backwards. Lucy looked too and caught the shape of a hulking man with glinting eyes.  


“But surely there is something--” she tried to say.  


“Not now, Lucy.” Mina didn’t look angry, but rather fearful. Lucy would never have thought the sweet little coastal Whitby would be such a haven for monsters and other foul creatures.  


The horrors didn’t end once she entered the hospital. More visitors than normal were milling about which not only made her job ore difficult, but it meant she did run into Arthur and Quincy fawning after her. She did her very best to ignore them, but to no avail.  


“Nurse Westenra,” Quincy called, his accent already grating on her nerves. “How lovely of us to run into you here.”  


“Oh yes, it is not much of a surprise considering this is my place of work,” Lucy said, a false smile spreading across her face.  


“Even so, this ward is rather large and we thought we’d never find you,” Arthur added. “We were wondering if there was any sort of favorable prognosis for one suffering from tuberculosis. None of the doctors here will give us a straight answer.”  


Of all the questions that could have been asked, this was Lucy’s least favorite. Truthfully put, there was no good outcome, as Dr. Van Helsing so often reminded her. Most people did not take kindly to the notion that their loved ones were doomed. “There are ways with which can can prolong and improve a patient’s quality of life,” Lucy explained. “Ultimately it depends on the attitude of the patient whether they have a longer life or a shorter one.” It was not technically a lie, and Lucy knew it, but the half truth often snuck a pain into her gut. Both men seemed to nod in silent agreement, which Lucy hoped meant she could leave soon, but she had no such luck.  


“Would you care to join us for lunch?” Quincy asked with absolutely no ceremony.  


“I’m afraid I have far too much work with my patients, who I should return to,” Lucy said, politely looking for someway out of this dreadful conversation.  


“It would only be for a few moments,” he insisted, as Arthur looked away uncomfortably. Lucy looked the Texan up and down and could have sworn he was carrying three bowie knives on him as opposed to yesterday’s two.  


“I told you, sir, I cannot.” Lucy tried in vain to extract herself, but Quincy, apparently lacking a proper education in manners, grabbed her wrist.  


“I insist, it would be out treat,” he said. Arthur pulled him away by his shoulders and looked positively mortified. Lucy smirked to herself. Serves him right for hanging around such a dense buffoon.  


“I swear the two of you will sap the life out of me,” Lucy snapped as Arthur tried to shush her apologetically.  


“I am so sorry for the behavior of my companion,” he whispered, trying as hard as he could not to draw the already rapt attention of any onlookers. “We truly aren’t some vampires looking to do you harm.”  


Lucy head snapped up as she looked him in the eyes. “Vampire?” she asked.  


“Uh, yes ma’am,” Quincy added. “You know, the bloodsucking monster. They are quite popular in certain kinds of books these days,” he said with a cough as Arthur elbowed him in the ribs.  


“Like a giant leech,” she muttered to herself before turning towards the door. She stopped herself just short of being rude. “Thank you two so much for the help,” she called and left to see Dr. Van Helsing.


	4. Wednesday, 03/29/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham looks at samples. Mina talks to Renfield. Lucy finds a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the late update. It's that time of the semester again. Kudos/comments are always appreciated! Let us know what you think!

“Ah, Nurse Westenra, I was worried you wouldn’t be able to find me,” Abraham smiled. He stood from the stool he was sitting on, crossing the room excitedly. “Mr. Harker is doing much better now with the cold hydrotherapy,” Abraham said, guiding her over to where a thoroughly pacified Mr. Harker lay in a freezing bath.

“What do you know about vampires, Doctor?” Nurse Westenra asked, looking quite pale and mildly distressed.

“Very little,” Abraham frowned. She was supposed to be as thrilled as he was about Mr. Harker’s improvement. “Any sign of Nurse Murray? I’d very much like to tell her the news of Mr. Harker’s progress.”

“I believe she is still completing her rounds,” Nurse Westenra said curtly. Her face softened as she glanced to Mr. Harker. “I’m glad he’s improved.”

“I’m merely seated here to make sure that the poor fellow doesn’t fall asleep in the tub,” Abraham grinned. “He’s awfully worn out by the fever and now that it’s broken all he wishes to do is rest.” He noted the quick darkening of Nurse Westenra’s expression. “Don’t worry. There’s utterly no sign of the bite marks nor the anemia.”

“Has he said anything?” Nurse Westenra asked as Abraham pulled up another chair.

“No, I’m afraid he’s still largely mute,” Abraham said, rolling up his sleeve again and testing the temperature of the water. “We will need to move him from the bath in a few minutes. I don’t want him to suffer a lasting chill.” Abraham was practically beaming at Mr. Harker, so thrilled he was with his recovery. The fact that he was settling down so rapidly now that the fever was abated was a good sign; it meant insanity was not his ailment after all. No madman was ever fixed so easily.

“How was your dinner with Mr. Dracula?” Lucy asked after a pause. Abraham felt a wave of embarrassed dread wash over him.

“I’m thinking of sending Mr. Harker home for care,” he said quickly, hoping she would take up his invitation to end the conversation.

“Is it proper for Nurse Murray to be expected to live with him while still unmarried?” Lucy asked, quite out of character. Abraham turned to gawk at her.

“Since when have you developed an interest in what is and is not proper?” Abraham asked blankly. He was met with a sly grin.

“Oh, probably around the same time you developed an interest in evading my questions,” she shot back. Abraham’s mouth twisted as he tried to think of a defense. He failed.

“It was...pleasant,” he said diplomatically.

“And?” Lucy prompted.

“And you should aid me in getting Mr. Harker out of the bath and into dry clothes,” Abraham said, this time avoiding her with finesse and a credible excuse. Moreover, he knew how little she enjoyed changing male patients’ clothes, even after so many years. An apt punishment for her inquiries. With considerable difficulty they hoisted Mr. Harker out of the tub, and Abraham braced his soaked body against his own.

“...Doctor Seward?” Mr. Harker’s eyes fluttered open. Abraham awkwardly shifted so that Lucy could strip him and dry him with the towel. Sure, this violated all codes of decency for female nurses, but so did his secret lessons in surgery and pathology. There was also very little chance he would be able to do it alone.

“It’s Doctor Van Helsing, Mr. Harker,” Abraham said affectionately. He was friendly acquaintances with Mr. Harker by nature of being neighbors while he was living in London, which in his book meant they were close friends. Mr. Harker nodded, leaning heavily against him as he consciousness ebbed.

“He’s gotten awfully thin,” Nurse Westenra said as she finished drying him, starting on redressing him in fresh clothes.

“He’s been refusing food, even now that the nausea and vomiting have ceased,” Abraham said grimly. “Another reason I believe he will benefit from care at home. Nervous patients are almost always more willing to eat when they feel secure.”

“You would have him stay with Nurse Murray?” Nurse Westenra asked with mild distaste.

“I would have him stay in his own home,” Abraham said firmly. “If need be, I will stay with him and provide the care myself, though if I recall you were quite insistent that Nurse Murray be his provider.”

“I was,” Nurse Westenra said awkwardly. “I’m certain she will be thrilled,” she added as they lifted him back into the rolling gurney.

“We will be bringing him to a private room in the general ward,” Abraham said as they reached the stairs, priming himself for the grueling journey up all three flights. “Especially now that we know he is of sound mind.”

“That sounds much more pleasant that the damp cell he was in before,” Nurse Westenra grumbled. They shared the unpopular opinion that the treatment of the mentally infirm was disastrous at best and murderous at worst. Even crueler to force a sane man to bear it.

“Quite,” Abraham said as they reached the top of the first flight. Already he felt winded, but the sooner they could settle Mr. Harker, the sooner he could rest. The best thing for the man was rest, though it was tied with food and water.

The black spots threatened his vision as they completed the next flight, and he paused, leaning against the bed as he got his air back. He supposed this must be the consequence of chronic lack of rest and long hours spent without adequate food. His professors always warned him that he was of a certain character; one that would lead him to burn out were he not careful.

“Doctor? Are you alright?” Nurse Westenra asked as he finally got a decent breath in.

“Yes, Nurse Westenra,” Abraham said with a smile. “I fear the moist air and late nights seem to be rendering me frail.”

“You ought to rest,” she said with a frown. “Just how late were you out last night?”

Abraham lifted his portion of the bed as they braved the last flight, awkwardly evading her gaze. “Well...Mr. Dracula had me out well past moonrise, and I returned here afterwards to see if the blood samples had coagulated, which-”

“You were here all night,” Nurse Westenra said with an accusatory glare.

“I was here until dawn, and then I went to the inn and slept for a couple hours,” Abraham said in weak defense. They finally made it to the top of the stairs and had Mr. Harker settled in the peace and quiet of his room under plenty of blankets. Abraham was quite content to leave him unshackled, especially now that he was content to sleep.

“Doctor, if I may be frank, you look nightmarish,” Nurse Westenra said with a judgmental breath. Abraham looked at her dejectedly, unhappily torn from the pride of seeing Mr. Harker well on his way to recovery.

“I shaved this morning, and I washed my face,” Abraham said with a frown.

“The patients will see you as one of their own with such circles under your eyes,” she said with a slight smile. “I certainly hope your evening was worth it.”

“Mr. Dracula has odd taste in bars,” Abraham said sheepishly. He gave her a hesitant smile. “But, if you were curious, even as of two hours ago the blood had only barely started to clot.”

“I was curious,” she said with a smile, though it faltered. “What kind of bar?” She asked.

“I won’t discuss my personal life in front of a patient,” Abraham said with a huff. She raised a brow and gestured towards the door. He followed, though he had the sinking feeling that he would not be able to escape this conversation.

“What manner of bar?” She asked again as they lowered the stairs, heading back towards the makeshift lab.

“I don’t believe it was wholly legal,” he said hesitantly. She stopped them both.

“How so?”

“Well…” Abraham ran a hand through his scruffy, unkempt hair. “The bar was actually a furnished room in the basement of another bar, for one.”

“What else?” Nurse Westenra asked, brows knit in concern.

“It was just odd,” Abraham shrugged. “I believe there was opium. We were served absinthe, though I did not personally imbibe.”

“An opium den?” She asked incredulously.

“No...I wouldn’t call it that. Not exactly.” Abraham wished he could pace.

“Then what?” Nurse Westenra asked, concern bordering on crossness.

“Well, I believe,” Abraham paused, making sure that they were securely behind closed doors. “I believe I may have been brought to a...deviant parlor,” he whispered.

“You mean homosexual?” Nurse Westenra’s gray eyes could not have been wider.

“Sh! Not so loud!” Abraham said quickly. “If anyone finds out I was there I could lose my license, or even worse be arrested for buggery.”

“Well…” An odd look entered her face. “Did you…”

“I most certainly did not,” Abraham said abruptly, face flushing red. “And I don’t know for certain if Mr. Dracula does. It isn’t something to speculate on.”

“I thought you were against the pathologizing and criminology of it,” Nurse Westenra said with a raised brow.

“I am,” Abraham nodded. “But that won’t change the damning effects of being suspected. I wouldn’t wish that for our dear Mr. Dracula, even if he is that way.”

“That is fair,” Nurse Westenra said, grimacing less at the notion of Mr. Dracula being a homosexual than at the notion of him being ‘dear.’ 

“Best not to worry about any of it,” Abraham said reassuringly. “Besides, I’m planning to write to Barts to inform them of him becoming my student rather than Dr. Seward’s, since he has expressed more of an interest in epidemiology than psychiatry. He shall be our new assistant!” He said brightly. He faltered at the utter shock on Nurse Westenra’s face. “Nurse Westenra?”

“Nothing, sir,” she said quickly. “I...look forward to working with him.”

“Excellent! I as well,” Abraham said, recovering quickly. “He will be staying at my house in Hyde Park, at least until he can find his own place in the city. I’ll speak to Dr. Seward and finalize it all by tonight.”

“Wonderful,” she said with utterly no enthusiasm.

“Shall we find Nurse Murray and tell her the wonderful news about Mr. Harker?” Abraham asked, already heading back towards the door now that he had his medical kit.

“Of course,” Nurse Westenra smiled pleasantly this time.

“Oh, and Nurse Westenra?” Abraham added as they started the stairs again.

“Yes?” She asked hesitantly.

“You I possibly bother you to help me draft the letter? I am...not on especially good terms with the board following the spat I had with them over Listerine, and I could benefit from your finesse,” he added sheepishly. She laughed quietly.

“You need me to hold your hand while you write the letter?” She asked. His cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Not in the literal sense,” Abraham said shyly. “I just need to get the formatting correct and be sure that I’m polite enough to persuade them that this is not a ‘silly’ idea from their youngest and least experienced professor.”

“Very well,” Nurse Westenra sighed. “Come, I believe Nurse Murray is with the psychiatric patients.”

Contentedly, he trailed her into the abysmal ward of the insane.

* * *

The psychiatric ward was consistently caught in a state of repair and disrepair, gleaming beds set against decaying walls covered in drooling lines of yellowed water damage. The asylum was funded by the state, which seldom cared for the mentally infirm and unfit of society, and was thus only supported by the occasional charity of rich men made to feel guilty for their wealth by the church.

Mina strolled through the men’s section of the ward purposefully. Though procedure dictated that female nurses remain separate from the male patients, Seward, in a miraculous stroke of common sense, had long ago forgone that rule in favor of dividing staff according to their temperaments. Those of gentler disposition attended to the depressed and worn, mothers suffering the loss of children and soldiers attempting to forget the traumas war had inflected on them, while the tough-skinned staff dealt with the hysterical, upset, and violent. And since Mina had once single-handedly wrestled a patient into a choke hold during a particularly bad week at the hospital, she was designated tough-skinned rather quickly.

Mina stopped in front of Renfield’s private room and slid open the door slot. Inside, Renfield sat cross-legged on his bed, staring out the window. His head was bowed slightly and a small shift in her field of vision allowed her to see the wooden box placed front of him. Mina drew back and rapt on the door.

“Robert?” She called through the thick iron. “May I come in?”

A few piercing scrapes of metal against concrete indicated that Renfield, upon hearing her intrusion, had risen from his bed. His footsteps trailed to the door. “Nurse Murray.” He said. “How fares your fiancé?”

“He is recovering presently. May I come in?” She repeated.

“Please do.” Renfield said, voice patterned with thinly-laid amusement. It was a formality, the request for consent to enter, and both knew it. There was no privacy among the mad-minded. Yet Mina attempted always to uphold pleasantries and equal communication with her patients, Renfield particularly. The other man was an exceptionally sanguine and kind soul despite his frightening delusions and, in such a gloomy place as this, she detested the idea of stripping a man further of his deserved dignity.

With permission given, Mina retrieved her keys and entered. As always, the room smelled of something vaguely rotting and sulfurous, though Mina could never find the source of the odd odor, leaving her to assume it must be emitted from Renfield himself.

She summoned a soothing smile as Renfield returned to the bed and drew the wooden box into his lap. “What do we have today?” She asked lightly, already in dread of the answer.

“Flies.” Renfield said morosely.

“Oh?” Mina crossed the rough concrete and settled beside him. She made herself peer into the box, observing the squirming mass of wingless house flies within. “I thought you were now engaged with spiders.”

“The spiders died.” Renfield said the same way one might describe the loss of a small child. “Now I must start again.”

Mina placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and rubbed her thumb into the tendon. “I’m quite sorry, Robert.” Not for the first time, she considered taking the box from him and upturning it out the window. However, such a shock to her patient’s fragile psyche would be ill advised and thus she stayed her hand. There was little harm in Renfield collecting flies, after all, even if he had recently developed an unfortunate obsession with consuming them.

“Has Dr. Seward approved my request for a kitten yet?” Renfield asked suddenly, green eyes as eager and bright as a child’s at Christmastime and twice as innocent.

Mina maintained her smile. “He has not.”

“But why?” Renfield asked in devastation. “I would take care of her.”

“Such rewards directly follow behavior.” Mina said firmly. “And you have not yet proven that you could keep a cat in good health without neglecting your own.” She did not mention her true fear; that any mammal given to Renfield would end up between his teeth.

Renfield pouted but relented the issue without difficulty as his mind turned to other matters. He set the box of flies aside and stuck out his arm, allowing Mina to take his pulse as was their routine.

“Dr. Seward visited me the other day.” Renfield spoke absently as he watched Mina move through her evaluation.

“Did he?” Mina asked.

“Yes.” Renfield said with self-satisfaction. “I assumed you would be interested to know that he has threatened to fire you.”

“Again?” Mina replied casually as she pushed up his sleeves to examine the pallor of his skin.

“Yes. But don’t fear, Nurse Murray, he has said that he would never do such a thing whilst your fiancé is sick. He bears a keen sympathy for your suffering soul, forced to bear the wicked world without a husband by your side.”

Mina hummed. “That is most kind of him.”

Renfield nodded, a mocking smile gracing thin lips. “I told him that if he were truly concerned, he should offer to marry you himself. He looked near to sick at the suggestion.”

With a conceited smile, Mina rolled his sleeve down once more. “Mr. Harker is more than enough for me.” She assured him. Making clear her focus on taking Renfield’s temperature, Mina then asked, “And what of Mr. Dracula? How do you find him?”

Renfield took a sharp draw of breath, causing Mina to glance up in concern. Under the hazy light of a misted sky passed through window bars, his face appeared as a wretched mask of excitement, bordering on mania, and her hand curled instinctively around the key in her pocket.

“Mr. Dracula is wonderful!” Renfield cried, enthusiasm so great as to spread into his movements, which turned loud and wild in an instant. “He has told me the most fantastic things and gifted me with all manners of small creatures to use. Just yesterday, he has visited me and promised to bring me a gift in the form of a goldfinch.”

Mina willed herself not to react to the notion of Renfield in possession of a bird but instead remained innocently engaged. “Has he now?” She asked.

“He has.” Renfield grinned. “And he has told me that soon, he could offer me even more. Perhaps,” his tone lifted upwards like a swell of the tide, “he could even bring me the kitten you all so cruelly deny me.”

“Perhaps.” Mina said. “Has he made any comment of his engagement here?”

Renfield, always the harbinger of good gossip, smiled his secrets. “He has confided in me his great interest in studying the physical body as well as his dissatisfaction with the facilities available to him in Whitby. He has taken a particular shine to Dr. Van Helsing.”

“Indeed?” Mina inquired. Her stomach churned at the notion of Dracula focusing his attention on Lucy’s dear doctor and thus, by association, on Lucy herself.

“Indeed.” Renfield replied contently. “Mr. Dracula is kind. He does not treat me the way all others do, as if I am a disgusting or frightful monster. He talks to me like a man, as only you previously did.”

Mina smiled and took his hand, though she felt no small amount of guilt for the statement considering her obvious manipulation of Renfield’s unguarded nature. She closed her eyes and reoriented herself to her goal.

“Does he speak at all of his homeland?” Mina asked.

“No.” Renfield cocked his head to one side. “Is he not British?”

“I don’t believe so. And what of Mr. Harker? Does he mention him?”

Renfield shuffled through his disordered thoughts. “He has once made mention of his condition. In regards to Mr. Harker’s ravings, Mr. Dracula has described his mania as the most vivid he has ever witnessed.” He scratched his chin. “And then he expressed something odd.”

“Yes?” Mina pressed, all illusions of feigned disinterest departing. “What did he express?”

Renfield glanced to her as if startled and the spell of his fervent devotion broke. “I...well, he has said that Mr. Harker should remain a madman all his life. It was strange because he seemed so certain of it. Mr. Harker  should  remain a madman, he declared, and furthermore, he stated that he would give advice to Seward to keep him labeled as such. It is odd that he seems not to trust Mr. Harker’s stability away from asylum even as you have spoken of his improved condition.”

“It is odd.” Mina muttered. “What of a Nurse Westenra? Has he spoken of her?”

“I haven’t heard.”

Mina finished her examination hastily and stood, mind swirling with the weight of this new, unpleasant knowledge. She patted Renfield on the shoulder and smiled earnestly. “Thank you for the conversation, Robert. I do so enjoy your company.”

Renfield clasped her free hand. “As do I. At times I grow convinced that you and Mr. Dracula are my only friends in this horrid place and, indeed, in all the world.” He hesitated. “You will inquire with Dr. Seward concerning the kitten, won’t you? I promise I can take care of such a creature.”

“I will ask.” Mina assured him, his honest assertion of friendship summoning affection even for the possible enemy before her. She squeezed his hand lightly and departed the room, leaving Renfield once more to his bugs.

Mina had seldom closed the iron door, however, when she was assaulted by Lucy and her dear doctor, who beamed at her with the same manner of childish exhilaration Renfield had displayed only ten minutes prior. Mina quickly hastened to put her mused skirt in order.

“Dr. Van Helsing.” She greeted him with worried politeness. “What a surprise to run into you here.”

“We have come to see you.” Lucy smothered Mina’s concern with a gentle touch of the arm. “Johnathan’s fever has broken and he is beginning to become lucid once more.”

Mina felt her heart must have forced its way into her throat and her hand flew to follow its journey outward. “Johnathan?” She asked, first in disbelief, then with a resounding burst of joy and fear. Without care for properness, she seized Dr. Van Helsing’s arm. “May I see him? Have you noted physical symptoms? Shaking? Vomiting? Is he frightened? Please, I must be with him at once!”

Van Helsing smiled and patted her hand awkwardly. “He is exhausted, as one might expect, and therefore we know nothing certain in regard to his emotional state at this time. But rest assured, you will be reunited. I’m sure he will be most grateful for your presence.”

Lucy took the lead, locking arms with Mina’s as the pair navigated the narrow halls leading into the new, more private room in which Johnathan resided. As Van Helsing had predicted, Johnathan was caught in some deep slumber unlike those which she had observed helplessly for so many months. Where before he would twist and moan in sleep, hands clutching sheets with white knuckles and pupils searching behind closed lids, the man now lay still, breath even and deep, as if taking his first taste of air after years of drowning. Mina came to his bedside at once and, like a mother attending a sick child, brushed damp blond hair from his forehead.

With a weak whimper, Johnathan’s eyes fluttered open and Mina could see feeble recognition spark within them.

“Mina?” Johnathan asked, voice loose and cracked.

“Yes,” Mina said. She smiled at him and sought to speak more before awareness overtook her and she recalled her present audience. “Oh,  darling, ” Mina let her voice pitch high as if caught in a sob, “I have been so worried about you!”

Johnathan winced back from her volume, appearing painfully concerned at Mina’s sudden change in demeanor. “Mina,” he asked, “what are you-”

“Dr. Van Helsing, I simply cannot thank you enough for reviving my beloved fiancé!” Mina bent beside the bed and held Johnathan’s hand tightly. She looked to Van Helsing, who seemed touched by the romantic scene unfolding before him. A glance towards her dear Lucy, however, reveleaded befuddlement and a strange manner of sorrow. Mina forced her tone to a more palpable level. “And Lucy, my dear.” She beckoned Lucy to her and hugged her tenderly. “I could never repay you for your kindness and regard. For your most loving friendship in these hard times.”

Lucy smiled, though the fixture sat oddly on her usually blissful facade. “And my friendship you will continue to have.” She declared. “Dr. Van Helsing has advised that you take Johnathan home to continue his care in a familiar environment.”

For a moment, her mind withered to selfishness, jealousy attempting to guard that eden of peace Lucy’s presence had returned to her home. Then, the tightening of Johnathan’s hand on her own returned her to responsibility and reason.

“That would be most pleasing.” Mina said softly. She yearned to remove Johnathan from this hallowed place of disease and crackling violence. She brushed a hand through Johnathan’s hair once more and his eyes slipped closed, blue shaded behind translucent white.

“Brilliant.” Van Helsing clapped his hands. “I will inform Dr. Seward at once.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Mina sighed in temporary relief.

_ [Written in Shorthand] _

_ Bran Castle, Transylvania, _

_ May 12, 1884. _

_ Dear Johnathan, _

_ Please do forgive my severe tone but I do not trust this mysterious ‘Count’ of which you speak. I fear that your pacifist nature has led you astray, for in no way does this man inspire my confidence or aid in my sleepless nights. Nothing you have described within your previous letters may be understood as anything except assault, deceit, and entrapment. I pray to you, return and as quickly as you are able. If you die in some altogether preventable manner, I swear I will not weep for you. _

_ Please, Johnathan, for the love of all that is holy, do not be moronic. _

_ Your Concerned Friend, _

_ Mina _

_ Wilhelmina Murray, _

_ Ivy Cottage, Whitby. _

* * *

Lucy could not shake the feeling that she was the worst friend to ever grace this earth. By all accounts, she should be thrilled that Mina’s beloved fiancé should be able to return to her side, but her chest was filled with sullenness none the less. Jealousy sparked behind her eyes now that she was staring the inevitability of losing her sanctuary with Mina in the face.

Of course, there was a practical element to her distaste. Now that Dr. Van Helsing was keeping with such a man as Mr. Dracula, she did not particularly want to share her lodgings with him. Even so, she had no place to go, and Jonathan needed a place to rest. She sped home as fast as she could to remove her things from his room. Blessed by sweet solitude, Lucy could sulk, though there was truly nothing to sulk about.

It was a sweet and good thing than Mina found such a man to marry as Jonathan. The Lord knew that Lucy should do the same and yet, she could barely bring herself to entertain the suggestion. Dr. Van Helsing was the only man she had ever met that was agreeable to her, and the love she felt for him, though true love it certainly was, felt more like that of two siblings and not of a husband and wife. Lucy couldn’t even fathom what that type of love might feel like.

That was not entirely true. Lucy imagined true, romantic love would feel like when she and Mina would stay awake at night during school, studying for anatomy tests by tracing the bones and muscles across each other’s skin. Those were endless nights which inevitably found their way to morning and they could keep each other awake in class with notes on any manner of subject. They had been particularly fond of mocking their professor’s ill taste in other men.

However, much to Lucy’s displeasure, those days were behind them and Mina was engaged to be married and she could not allow herself to forget it.

“Dearest Lucy, why are you sulking in my kitchen?” Mina asked as Lucy startled. Jonathan leaned on her arm and looked dreadful, but living, and that was a very good thing. “In the very least, make yourself comfortable and sulk in the living room. I certainly didn’t buy those couches for swooning.”

Lucy smiled despite herself, but when Jonathan’s footsteps faltered, she rushed to catch him and lead him to his room. He smiled at her, soft and warm like the sun, and Lucy suddenly felt mildly sick at the jealousy that continue to course through her mind. While Mina got her dear fiancé settled in bed, Lucy made herself busy and brought him a glass of water and an extra blanket.

It wasn’t long before he was asleep again; no longer plagued by Mr. Dracula’s nightmares. Someday soon Lucy would have to inquire after his relationship with Mina and discover its true intentions. While she did not think anything was amiss per se, Mina did tend to adopt an odd, lilting behavior when talking about him that Lucy found mildly disturbing. For now, though, she must be content with Mina’s feigned happiness. 

“You didn’t need to move everything out of the room,” Mina explained as she placed a gentle hand on Lucy’s shoulder. They sat in the drawing room together and it was almost as if they were alone.

“I couldn’t possibly inflict my presence on your poor Jonathan,” Lucy waved her hand away with a hollow laugh. “I do promise that I won’t stay in your house any longer than necessary. I’ve asked around about some proper inns that wouldn’t mind a woman lodging alone. They are surprisingly few and far between.”

“Nonsense,” Mina said as she grab her hand and let her fingertips stroke her knuckles. “You may stay here for as long as you please. You are the most delightful guest.” There was that strange look again. Lucy couldn’t quite place it to save her life, and yet, it seemed to be the most common emotion to grace her dear Mina’s face. “In fact, you are more than welcome to share my bed, dear friend, if you would find that more comfortable than the couch.” A blush rode high on Mina’s cheeks as she continued to hold Lucy’s hand.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly do that to you,” Lucy said after she recovered her wits. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“I assure you, it wouldn’t--” Mina tried to say.

“You mustn't tax yourself for my sake,” she adopted the aire of sternness even though she truly did not wish to. “You deserve your good night’s rest and I am more than capable of finding mine on your couch,” she said with a quick pat of her hand. “You shouldn’t worry for my sake.”

“And you shouldn’t worry for mine, either.” Mina made intense eye contact with Lucy before she reluctantly gave in. “Alright, but you must let me know if there is anything I can do to make you more comfortable.”

I assure you, I will.” She gave Mina a sweet smile and received one in return. Mina ran her hand along her forearm and made a noise of displeasure. It was adorable and Lucy struggled to keep a straight face. “What?” she asked.

“You are positively frigid. I’ll have to find you my extra blanket to ward off a chill,” she explained as she got up and started shuffling around in a closet.

“I already gave it to our dear Jonathan. I will be okay, I promise,” Lucy said with a smile, though Mina looked pointedly less pleased. 

“I’m sure Jonathan has more than enough to keep him warm. I’ll go fetch it for you.” She looked Lucy up and down, perhaps noting the shivinging in her shoulders that she was trying so intensely to hide. “And I’ll make us a pot of tea.”

“Mina,” Lucy called after her. “I cannot take a blanket from your ill husband. I’m not quite that barbaric.”

“Consider it my treat rather than an act of barbarism,” Mina snapped, but then frowned and immediately returned her hands to Lucy’s shoulders.

“If I allow you to make me tea, will you be content?” Lucy asked, using all of her willpower not to lean into her friend’s sweet touch.

“No,” Mina grumbled. “I should not want my friend to suffer so unnecessarily.”

“I assure you, I am not suffering. If I shall need anything, I’ll ask.” She raised a hand to Mina’s cheek before snatching it away as if she had been burnt. “I promise,” she added softly.

Mina only sighed and rose to prepare the tea. The soft scent of lavender and chamomile drifted through the air as Lucy wandered to the kitchen. Lucy felt pinpricks of guilt needling at her spine as she saw her beloved friend’s eyebrows knit together in frustration or sadness.

“I don’t mean to make you angry,” Lucy whispered.

“I just don’t understand why you won’t let me care for you, Lucy.” Mina returned to her side and drew Lucy’s ashamed eyes to meet her own. Her palm was warm against Lucy’s cheek.

Lucy let her hand fall on top of Mina’s and leaned the slightest bit into her touch. “Care for me after you have cared for your husband. I assure you, I can bear all the horrors of your sweet cottage.”

Mina sighed once more and pressed a fragrant cup into Lucy’s hands. “I expect you to have drunk it all by the time I return,” she said, leaving towards Jonathan’s room. “And I will bring you a blanket. Whether you use it or not is entirely up to you.”

Lucy brought her teacup back to the living room and let the curls of steam warm her face, which was unbearably cold now that Mina wasn’t touching her. It pained her, truly it did, that she wasn’t able to accept her friends care because of the guilt that rotted deep in her consciousness. Lucy knew that what she longed for was not a friend’s touch and such was something Mina never could provide.

Lucy didn’t hear as Mina reentered the room and she jumped when she draped the blanket over her shoulders. “There,” Mina whispered. “At least now I know you’ll be warm.” Lucy hummed her appreciation and tried to surrender herself to the dominion of rest.

Truthfully, it was far colder than Lucy thought and the couch far more uncomfortable. The ticking of the clock rang in her ears as each eternity of a second dragged by. The noise was so loud and jarring that she couldn’t even pay enough attention to her daydreams to make them worthwhile. An hour passed, and then another two, and soon it was past midnight and Lucy still couldn’t sleep. She could have blamed it entirely on the noise or the discomfort, but in reality, she felt unbearably lonely. She had only spent two nights in a bed with Mina, but even without touch the feeling of another person next to her had grown comforting.

If it had been anyone other than Mina, Lucy would have stuck it out and dealt with the consequences of sleeplessness in the morning. She knocked lightly on her door, simultaneously hoping that Mina would come running and that she wouldn’t answer at all. The former was true and Lucy all but fell into her arms when she opened the door. “Lucy?” she asked, blearily.

“May I sleep with you tonight?” Lucy asked even as Mina already lead her to her bed. The warmth of her bedsheets pulled her quickly towards sleep.

Mina curled in her side, looking Lucy in her eyes. She extended a hand which she readily took and the warmth of it chased the cold from her entire arm. “You’re so cold,” she murmured, moving closer. Lucy could feel her sweet breath against her bare skin. “What made you change your mind?” she asked.

“I missed you.” Lucy’s voice was so thin that the words were drawn from her like frost in the air. Mina drew her into an embrace and that wretched, rotting guilt pulled at her insides once more. This time, however, she had no strength to fight back and she allowed herself to be held as sleep called her forth.

Lucy did not allow herself to dwell on the state in which she and Mina woke up together. She did not allow herself to dwell on the intimacy she felt when Mina offered to pin her hair again after she prepared breakfast. Instead, she was solely concerned with the mechanics of how her legs moved as they walked to the hospital. She kept up a happy, familiar conversation with Mina as they walked, but her mind was racing with too many strong emotions to devote enough energy to just one.

That was, until they heard a whimpering coming from the cursed alleyway. “Lucy, you mustn’t,” Mina said as Lucy tied up her skirt to climb over a stack of wooden crates. “It’s probably just an animal or, god forbid, something rabid.” Something told Lucy that Mina didn’t even believe the words she spoke.

The alleyway was dark, dank, and absolutely revolting. The piercing stench of rotten garbage and piss had assaulted them on the street, but now it was unbearable. Lucy tied a cloth handkerchief around her nose and mouth, but it did little to help. She watched where she stepped to avoid stepping in refuse, but it wasn’t very effective as the entire ground was coated in the muck. Lucy eventually resigned herself to changing into her spare set of clothes once she reached the hospital and hoped no one would bleed or vomit on her today.

It was difficult to pinpoint the source of the whimpering through the yelling coming from an apartment with broken windows and Mina’s protests from the street. “Come out, come out,” Lucy whispered, unsure if she were dealing with a human or an animal. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I just want to see if you’re alright.” The crying intensified and took on a distinctly human characteristic. Lucy felt something drop like lead into the pit of her stomach.

“It’s alright,” Lucy whispered as she rummaged through a pile of boards that were rife with rusted nails. There, tucked into the corner of the alley, she saw the huddled form of a little boy. He was small, but Lucy couldn’t tell his age because he was so thin and covered in dirt and ash. “Hello, little one,” she murmured softly as she extended her hand. “What are you doing out here all alone?” He didn’t answer, but his weeping stopped enough for him to touch the tips of Lucy’s fingers before pulling away in a fit of coughing. “Here’s what we are going to do,” she explained to the small child as she pulled him into her arms. He was far too light. “I am going to take you to meet a very nice man who can fix your cough in a jiffy and we’ll get you a bath and some fresh clothing. How does that sound?” The boy still didn’t answer, but he didn’t panic either, which Lucy thought was a good sign.

She carefully clambered over the refuse and back to the street, clutching the boy to her chest. Once she returned to Mina’s side, her friend quickly untied her skirts so they wouldn’t get any wretched looks from passersby. “Good heavens! Is that a child?” Mina asked, careful to keep her voice down.

“Yes, and we are going to see Dr. Van Helsing to help his cough, aren’t we?” Lucy asked the boy, still to no reply. His skin was cold and clammy against her own. Spring may have held dominion over the day, but winter kept its reign at night.

“You can’t just take this child, Lucy,” Mina hissed. “What if his parents come looking for him?” She cast a worried look back towards the alley.

“Then they will find him in the hospital,” Lucy answered, put off by her friend’s nerves. “I cannot just leave a child shivering in the street.” She looked Mina up and down. “And I don’t think you would be able to either.” Mina nodded and they entered the hospital.

It didn’t take long for the to find Dr. Van Helsing as he was hovering near the door. He looked at Lucy and seemed prepared to say something, but he caught himself. “Dear God, why do you look like you crawled out of a ditch?” he asked. “And is that a dog?”

“It is a child, friend,” she said pointedly as she walked towards a suitable room. “I think he may be sick, but I haven’t yet decided with what.”

Mina and Dr. Van Helsing followed as she found the child a bed far from the commotion of the rest of the hospital. He had screwed his eyes shut and now was actively clinging to her shoulders. She sat on the bed and tried to ease him off, but he wouldn’t let go. “Mina--” Lucy stopped herself. “Nurse Murray, can you find me some clothing and perhaps a glass of water?” Mina quickly complied and Lucy was left alone with the child and Dr. Van Helsing.

Lucy took a few minutes to explain how she came by the child and Dr. Van Helsing nodded gravely. “You did the right thing,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “He can do far better in here than out there.”

It was difficult to convince the child to allow Dr. Van Helsing to examine him, but in the end, Lucy found that if she held the boy in a tight embrace, he would calm long enough for her dear doctor to gather his data. In this time, Lucy was forced to consider the possibility that this boy had never been hugged this much before. Mina came back with water and clothes and as the boy drank his fill, Lucy decided what questions she needed to ask. The clothes could wait till after a bath, which Dr. Van Helsing assured her was already being drawn.

“Little one,” she said, her voice sweet and quiet. “What is your name?” He looked up at her with understanding but did not answer. “Do you know where your parents are?” she tried again, still to no answer. He looked at her with bright brown eyes that would have matched his ruddy hair had it not been so greasy.

“That is strange,” Dr. Van Helsing mused. “He seems to be of the age where he should be able to speak.”

Lucy frowned at this development and decided to try again. “Do you have a name? Something that your parents call you?”

The child frowned at her and tilted his head to the side. “Wicked Boy,” he said as if it were as normal a name as Adam or Edward. Dr. Van Helsing frowned and Mina looked frantically towards Lucy. Meanwhile, Lucy felt the spark of the most abject and terrifying rage light within her chest. She kept it quelled, however, in an attempt not to scare the dear child.

“Well, that’s no name for such a sweet boy, now is it?” She warbled, hoping her distress was too far removed for the child to notice it. “How about when I return with Nurse Murray, we can give you a nice and proper name that you’ll be very fond of.”

She tried to stand, but a look of terror flashed across the boy’s face as he grabbed at her arms. Tears started welling in his eyes and Lucy had to blink them from her own as well. “Hush, hush,” she whispered. “I will be back in exactly ten minutes and now you can make very good friends with Dr. Van Helsing.” She pulled her dear doctor to sit on the edge of the bed.

He shifted awkwardly and raised a hand to shake with the toddler. “How do you do? I am Abraham van Helsing, at your service.” The boy not longer looked like was going to cry, so Lucy left the room and entered the chaos of the rest of the hospital.

“Quincy!” She called out and, lo and behold, he appeared, accompanied by Arthur. “Quincy, I require one of your knives,” she said, without preamble. While Arthur looked concerned and mildly horrified, Quincy seemed thrilled that someone would share his passion for the sharp objects. Lucy stared at the glint of the metal for a moment and then left before either of them could ask any questions. Mina followed closely behind her as she hid in a broom closet

“I will gut them!” Lucy hissed as her knuckles clenched white around the handle of the knife. “When we find his parents, I’ll gut them like fish!” She longed to scream at the injustice and beat her fists against the wall, or better yet, against the noses of the swine who dared to call this boy their son. That, however, was simply not an option.

“I know, I know,” Mina soothed as she placed a hand on Lucy’s arm and urged her to but the knife away before she hurt herself with it. “We will find them and we will bring them to justice. There’s no force in heaven or on earth that could stop us.”

Lucy felt the tears she had been trying so hard to keep inside spill down her cheeks as Mina enveloped her in a tight hug. Lucy hugged her and smelled the sweetness of rose in her hair. No doubt, she still smelled like that alleyway and Lucy was surprised Mina could bear it at all. Lucy felt Mina’s thumb rubbing gently between her shoulder blades.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Lucy said as Mina wiped some of her tears from her cheek. “It’s not as if something terrible has happened to me.”

“No,” Mina said softly. “But it is a tragedy.” She continued to comfort Lucy as she steadied her breathing and dried her eyes. “Are you ready to return to our sweet child?”

Lucy nodded and was calm until she entered the room only to be greeted by Dr. Seward and Mr. Dracula staring at the boy as if he were a test subject or a fresh hunk of meat. She was immediately on the defensive and could feel Mina tense next to her. She paced in front of the two hostile men like a lioness protecting her den.

“Nurse Westenra,” Dr. Van Helsing called. “These two were just inquiring about our newest patient.”

“I can see that,” Lucy sang sweetly, more for the benefit of the boy than the grown men standing in front of her. “While it is very kind of them, I’m afraid I must ask them to leave.” She eyed Mr. Dracula intently. “I’m sure it wasn’t your intention, but this young man has had a very stressful day and more commotion than necessary would only have the gravest effect. Unless you are doing something we can not readily perform, I must ask you to return once we have done some preliminary care.”

“I know how women can get around children, but surely this protection is excessive, Nurse Westenra,” Mr. Dracula said, not lifting his eyes from the child.

“No, I believe Nurse Westenra is justified in her request. Please return later and we can discuss the case further,” Dr. Van Helsing said and with a nod of assent, the two men left.

Lucy returned to her place on the bed as the child crawled into her lap and clutched at her arms. “I’ve been thinking of name,” she said as she stroked his hair back from his forehead. “How about Aubrey? It’s a brave and daring name if I’ve ever heard once.” She glanced up at Mina and Dr. Van Helsing to see their smiles.

“Aubrey,” the boy said as if the consider the sound and the feel of it in his mouth. He nodded and buried his face against Lucy’s stomach.

Mina sat on the edge of the bed and placed one hand on Aubrey’s shoulder and the other on Lucy’s. “Hello Aubrey, I’m Nurse Murray,” she said softly, “But you may call me Mina. Lucy and I are going to take really good care of you.” Lucy relaxed against her touch and stayed cuddling with Aubrey until Dr. Van Helsing told her the bath was drawn.


	5. Chapter V: Thursday, 03/30/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham helps with a bath. Mina makes a promise. Lucy flirts with leeches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and let us know what you think!

“Alright, Mr. Aubrey,” Abraham said slowly. Per his own request, Abraham was alone with the young boy in the bathing room. He would have liked to have kept Nurse Westenra by his side for the ordeal, but the hospital was short-staffed even with the additional help of himself and Nurse Westenra. 

The boy stared him down, shivering in his inadequate clothing and malnourished state. Abraham rolled up a sleeve and placed his hand in the pleasantly hot water, offering him a reassuring smile. The boy shook his head weakly.

“Mr. Aubrey, it is my professional medical opinion that you will benefit from a hot bath and fresh clothes,” Abraham said with mild sternness. The boy looked as though he might cry. “Are you perhaps afraid I may hurt you?” He asked gently. 

Aubrey nodded, and took a hesitant step away from him. An excellent example of why Abraham dreaded working with pediatric patients. 

“Young sir, I promise you that these hands will do you no harm,” Abraham said firmly, offering up both of his empty palms. “I hold neither needle nor scalpel, and I can assure you I’m not much of a brawler.” He offered the boy a smile. “If you take your bath and allow me to get a better look at you, there may be cause for prescribing you a sweet.” 

This last attempt earned him a hesitant glance. All children were amenable to candy, after all. It was the oldest trick in the medical book. Aubrey took a few steps forward, though he made no move to disrobe and climb in the tub. 

“If I turn away, will you get in the bath?” Abraham tried one more time. “Though I will need to turn back around to help you wash.” The boy’s eyes were the size of tea cups, but he nodded. True to his word, Abraham turned on the small stool he was seated on such that his back was to the boy. “Tap my shoulder once I may turn back around.” 

To Abraham’s relief, he heard the telltale splash of water, indicating that Aubrey had relented and climbed into the bath. A moment later he felt a damp hand tap his arm. “Excellent,” Abraham smiled as he turned back around. He handed Aubrey a washcloth and a bar of soap. “These are for you so that you may wash your nethers. Is it alright for me to help you wash your hair?” He asked. Normally this was nurses’ work, but he needed a diagnosis and this was the quickest way to get it. 

“Yes, sir,” Aubrey said, barely audible despite the echoing room. Abraham used a small ceramic cup to wet his hair before working the soap through it, frowning slightly at how dark the water and soap foam ran from his filthy hair. 

He glanced the boy up and down. He was approximately four years old, thin as a bone. His body was host to an array of bruises and nicks, with a few bordering on proper lacerations. Abraham trained his gentle touch lighter still. 

“Mr. Aubrey,” Abraham said gently. “May I ask how you came to have these marks?” 

“I fell,” Aubrey mumbled as he cleaned himself clumsily. His movements were stiff and stifled, though whether by fear or pain was impossible to discern. Abraham had treated the bumps and cuts of youthful games and follies, and these were not those injuries. These looked quite like the wounds of a boxer or mugging victim. 

“Sir, as your physician it is vital that we commit to honesty with one another,” Abraham said as he rinsed his hair. “Has someone struck you?” 

Aubrey’s movements stilled momentarily. “Yes, sir,” he whispered. Abraham’s jaw tightened but he stayed himself from asking more. 

“Would it be agreeable to you to stay with Nurse Westenra and I here for a bit?” He asked instead. The water sloshed slightly as Aubrey turned to look at him, light brown eyes wide. 

“Here?” He asked. Abraham wiped a bit of soap from his brow. 

“Yes,” he said with a warm smile. “Though, if the hospital is too frightening I see no reason to prevent you from spending the nights with me or Nurse Westenra and coming with us back here in the morning.” 

Abraham frowned as Aubrey started to cough, noting with displeasure the fact that he was a bit hot to the touch, and not just from the bath. “Mr. Aubrey, do you feel unwell?” He asked. 

“Mhm,” Aubrey nodded as the coughing subsided into hard, wheezing breaths. Abraham relaxed minutely as he saw that there was no blood or white discharge on Aubrey’s hands as he pulled them away from his mouth. Not necessarily tuberculosis. He let out the breath he was holding. 

“What is the status of your bath?” Abraham asked lightly. “All clean yet? Soaped up everywhere, even behind your ears?” 

“Yes,” Aubrey said with a shy smile. Abraham raised a brow and smiled at him. 

“You forgot to wash your face and ears,” Abraham said lightly, catching the boy in his lie. “Shall I assist?” He grabbed a clean washcloth and got it wet and sudsy. 

“Not in my eyes,” Aubrey protested weakly. Abraham was very careful not to get the soap or water in his eyes, but he did wash everywhere else including his ears. The boy immediately looked greatly improved, and a pinkish tint could be seen on his clean cheeks. 

“Alright, Mr. Aubrey,” Abraham said as he stood and fetched the clean gown. It was the smallest size they had available, though it would still swim on him. “Here are your fresh clothes. Would you prefer for me to look away again?” 

“Yes, please,” Aubrey said. Abraham turned away after handing him a towel. 

“Tap my shoulder once I may turn around,” Abraham reminded, draining the bath as Aubrey climbed out. 

Aubrey had just gotten fully dressed and adorned in Abraham’s jacket for additional warmth when the bathing room door opened. Aubrey startled fairly violently, and Abraham bent down to allow him to hide against his chest. 

“Doctor?” The familiarly foreign voice of Mr. Dracula said from the hall. “Is our youngest patient done with his bath?” 

“Yes,” Abraham said awkwardly as Aubrey more or less climbed into his arms, wordlessly insisting on being carried. Abraham clumsily braced the boy on his hip as Mr. Dracula entered, smiling apologetically as Mr. Dracula took in the ridiculous state of the two of them; Aubrey in his dress jacket and Abraham’s rolled up shirt. 

“A clingy child, isn’t he?” Mr. Dracula asked with odd distaste. 

“I believe any of us might wish to be carried following Mr. Aubrey’s ordeal,” Abraham said, running a hand through his damp hair reassuringly. “Am I needed upstairs?” 

“I believe Dr. Seward wished to meet with you to discuss my transfer to your care,” Mr. Dracula said with a charming smile. “He said that Barts wrote to request that you notify them of your plans to return.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” Abraham sighed as Aubrey clutched at him tighter. He looked desperately at Mr. Dracula. “I fear we may have to inform Dr. Seward that he will need to wait until Nurse Westenra is available to care for our dear Mr. Aubrey.” 

“A nervous child?” Mr. Dracula asked, looking the child over with confused interest. “I don’t believe I’ve seen one so young up close. Is this typical?”

“What?” Abraham asked. “How have you never encountered a toddler?” Mr. Dracula shrugged. 

“I stayed near to home, and I was the only child.” Mr. Dracula said lightly. “Shall I tell Dr. Seward you’re otherwise engaged?” 

Abraham took the stairs carefully with Aubrey balanced precariously in one arm, shoving his medical kit gracelessly into Mr. Dracula’s hands so that he could hold the boy more securely. “Please tell Dr. Seward that I shall write to Barts to inform them of our return and your transfer as my apprentice,” he said as they climbed the stairs at the fastest pace he could manage. He was horribly fatigued by the top, and he shifted Aubrey slightly. “And tell Nurse Westenra that Aubrey and I shall be in my lab.” 

“Shall I take him upstairs?” Mr. Dracula asked, eyes flickering to the boy hesitantly. Aubrey’s hands twisted into his shirt. 

“I...will keep him with me while I write the letter,” Abraham said, resigning himself from physician to babysitter. “I’m sure I can find something for him to play with in the lab.” Mr. Dracula raised a suspicious brow, but he smiled at him kindly. Abraham returned the smile as best he could while catching his breath. 

“I’ll see if I can’t find him a toy,” Mr. Dracula said as he left to climb the rest of the stairs to the general hospital. 

Abraham tried to place Aubrey on the floor by his desk, but to no avail. The child seemed intent to hold onto him, and considering the state of him, that was just going to have to do. He closed the door to the lab and sat at his desk, letting Aubrey remain in his lap as he drafted a letter. 

_ St. Mary’s, Whitby., _

_ Mar. 30, 1885. _

_ Prof. Richard J. Anderson _

_ Administration Office _

_ St Bartholomew's Hospital Medical College _ _ , London _

_ Sir,  _

_ I have received word from Barts that I am to send notice of when I and Nurse Westenra plan to return. I request an additional two weeks at most (Apr. 13), as well as the transfer of at least two patients from St. Mary’s for further treatment in our more accommodating wards as my personal patients.  _

_ Additionally, and I apologize for the late notice, I will require the paperwork to be completed to allow for a surgical apprentice. I figure that, since the College has refused my request for Nurse Westenra to be my formal apprentice, it will not be an issue that I have found a suitable student here in Whitby. I shall request that all of his records be forwarded to your office by Dr. Seward.  _

_ I do apologize for the relative shortness of this letter, but conditions are rather more dire than originally anticipated out here on the coast.  _

_ Yours respectfully, _

_ Dr. Abraham van Helsing _

_ Professor of Surgery _

Having signed the letter, Abraham set it out to dry. He turned his attention back to little Aubrey, who seemed to have thoroughly tired himself out between the coughing and his fright with Mr. Dracula. He adjusted him on his lap, letting the boy sleep against his chest. There was a light knock at the door. 

“Nurse Westenra?” He asked. The door cracked open, revealing not his dear nurse, but Mr. Dracula instead. “Ah, hello Mr. Dracula. Do keep quiet, Aubrey seems to have fallen asleep.” Mr. Dracula gave his a small smile and walked over. To Abraham’s surprise, he had a small toy train in one hand, which seemed brand new. Mr. Dracula seemed to catch his stare, and he held it up. 

“This hospital is lacking in toys, so I walked into town,” he whispered, placing the toy delicately under one of Aubrey’s hands. 

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Abraham said quietly, brushing a curl of hair off his forehead. The boy was mildly feverish, but not so badly that he needed to be woken and given medicine or an ice bath. Abraham sighed, virtually immobilized by the sleeping child. 

“Anything I can bring you, Doctor?” Mr. Dracula asked politely. 

“Yes, actually. My stethoscope. From my bag.” Abraham said, adjusting his grip on Aubrey so that he had a free hand. He cringed as he watched Mr. Dracula rummage through his bag, which was undoubtedly a mess. He did manage to find it, however, and brought it over. 

“Would you like me to help you put it on?” Mr. Dracula asked, though he was already draping the instrument around Abraham’s neck. His hands were quite cold, and wherever they touched little sparks ran down his body. 

“Uh, yes. Thank you,” Abraham muttered as Mr. Dracula placed each ear piece lightly in place, letting his hands run down his neck strangely. More than just the chill of his touch ran down Abraham’s spine. “Please let Nurse Westenra know that I want to speak to her. About Aubrey.” 

“Of course,” Mr. Dracula whispered, distressingly close to his ear. It was all Abraham could do not to startle and wake poor little Aubrey from his nap. As he turned his head, however, Mr. Dracula was already gone from the room. 

Abraham literally shook his head free of the tingling, holding the stethoscope against his own chest to warm it before applying it to Aubrey. Mr. Dracula was odd. He hoped desperately that he was making the right call in bringing him to London, though in all honesty, it was too late now. Dr. Seward would have mailed the notice earlier that morning. 

All that was left to do was wait for Nurse Westenra and listen to Aubrey’s breathing.

* * *

Lucy’s sudden acquisition of a child was simultaneously surprising and expected. Even since their days at school, her wonderful, soft-hearted friend had nurtured a soft spot for children, especially those poor and neglected by their parents. It was one of the many traits which ensured their friendship through the years, Lucy’s natural aptitude towards caring and unbounded love. Yet, Mina had to admit, the present situation did make her frightfully nervous. It was awful enough for Mina to have drawn Lucy and her dear doctor into this tale of ever prevalent woe but to bring with them a child; to put this little Aubrey, who appeared to have already suffered so much and so long, in harm’s way was pure ludicrous. Mina could only pray that, under the influence of Van Helsing, the boy would remain safe and secure.

Mina smirked as she recalled Lucy’s towering fury, bold enough so as to block out the very sun. Though there was nothing amusing about the boy’s mistreatement, to see her sweet companion threaten bloody murder was almost thrilling. Anger was a side of Lucy rarely seen, after all, and even more rarely indulged.

It was a shame that Mina couldn’t linger to aid with Aubrey or Lucy’s rounds, but, as always, there was work to be done and done quickly too. Therefore, the morning flashed by in its usual manner, populated by examining anemic patients, comforting the morose relatives of the wretched and dying, and watching in barely concealed discomfort as Renfield fed his flies one by one to a jar of writhing spiders which had materialized in his room overnight. By lunchtime, Mina found herself exhausted and pale. Thus it was with a most unnatural relief that she found herself grateful to spy Seward striding towards her down the narrow hall.

“Dr. Seward,” she greeted him with well feigned respect, “might I have a word?”

Dr. Seward paused, grudgingly relinquishing his focus from the notebook held loosely in his hand. “Nurse Murray, what can I do for you?” He asked, voice churned with obvious displeasure at her rude interruption. 

“I must ask to be dismissed for the afternoon,” Mina said.

Seward’s expression twisted even further. “Nurse Murray.” He said her name in the same manner most would say bitch. “As I’m sure you are acutely aware, our faculties at this current moment are stretched thin as a razor wire. I cannot have any of my staff gallivanting off on afternoon escapades or engaging in flights of fancy.”

Mina glared at him, not bothering to disguise now the mutual distaste they both shared. “I need to check on my loving fiancé.” She declared coldly. “The one who is currently strewn across his bed, too exhausted to do more than moan and cry for mercy against an unseen assailant.”

She smiled in grim satisfaction as Seward evaded her intent gaze, looking rather bashful and ashamed for his attack on such a destitute and abandoned young woman. The gratification was short lived, however, as Mina took in the deep, blackened bags beneath Seward’s eyes and the anxious twitch in his fingers, which clasped still to the notebook like it were the rigging of a sinking ship. For half a moment he appeared as a mirror to her hidden depths and a spark of sympathy struck her deeply. 

“I will return before the sun passes behind the chapel hill.” She assured him. Mina reached out and touched his arm gently. It seemed to startle him from his temporary lapse in bastardous behavior and he snatched his arm back with a deep frown. “Yes, well…” he stumbled, “see that you do.”

With the straightening of his coat, Seward was off to attend to some other dying patient and Mina was released into the blinding afternoon sun. It was a long walk home without Lucy by her side to provide clever commentary or energetic humor, moon bleached hair glinting in the honey sweet light and stormy eyes churning jewels and shipwrecks upwards from their untold depths. Oh, how Mina desperately wished she could run to the hospital, snatch Lucy by the hand, and guide her away from this tangled and unreal reality; back to the days of their youth, when comfort reigned and terror sprung only from low examination marks and there was no talk of fiancés or monsters or madness.

She allowed herself to court the daydream, to taste it between her lips and feel it wrap her in hazy warmth. But then the house closed in, cold and sudden, and illusion fled with the closing of the door. 

Mina snuck into Johnathan’s room and settled herself at his bedside with the care of one attending to a grave. She plucked the untouched water off the bedside table and gently stroked Johnathan’s hair to wake him. His eyes flickered open, gaze hesitant and hazy as he took her in.

Mina smiled comfortingly. “It is only me.” She said softly, at once glad to be alone and therefore left without need for pretence or pretending. 

As Johnathan searched the room, she observed him, noting the way his eyes flickered to every corner and cranny of the enclosed space. She almost expected him to demand a search of the dresser. Eventually, however, he appeared contented with his thorough raking of the room and relented. 

With gentle hands, Mina supported his head forward and pushed the glass to his lips. “Drink.” She commanded. 

Johnathan complied at first but turned his head away after only a few sips, shielding his face into the crook of her arm like a fussy toddler. Mina sighed sadly. “Johnathan, come now. This is ridiculous.” She chided with no true malice. 

Mina leveled the glass before him again. He turned the other way. “Johnathan.” She repeated sternly. 

“Mina.” He returned. Despite the ragged undertone of his voice, he sounded vaguely teasing and it heartened Mina even as the sound pulsed waves of anger through her worn form. 

She scowled and set the water forcefully on the bedside table. “Oh, so this is a joke to you, is it?” She snapped. Johnathan retreated into the pillow as she leaned forward, bringing her face mere inches from his. “Months and months of worry and sleepless nights, no word, no assurance, no peace. And you. You and your  _ letters _ . Worthless promises of security and a phenomenal disregard for obvious warning signs served as your only companions that May. You certainly left no room for me in your travels, after all.” She sat up stiffly and crossed her arms, already in regret of her outburst as Johnathan stared at her with wounded intent. Mina bit her lip and tipped her head back. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” She challenged weakly.

Johnathan swallowed. He struggled to prop his ravaged body up on shaking elbows, hand twining into her sleeve in his attempt to stay upright. “We should get married.” He finally managed to slip between cracked lips.

Mina laughed dryly. “Johnathan,” she instructed slowly, “we are already engaged.”

“No.” He panted for each breath, the physical strain of supporting himself beginning to take its toll. “We should get married immediately.” 

“Immediately? Immediately meaning now?” Mina was no longer laughing. Despite her endeavors to dissuade the rabid dread blossoming in her stomach, there was no halting the quavering of her hands. 

Johnathan, detecting the shift in the air, relinquished his demanding hold on Mina’s sleeve. “I don’t…” his words slurred as if he were choking on them, “I cannot...I have promised.” He stared at her, blue eyes pale as jagged lightning against purpled thunderclouds. “I promised to keep you safe and, and secure and if something is to become of me…”

At once, Mina was close to his side, hushing his rising mania. “Nothing will become of you.” She worried at the edges of his blanket, tucking it firmly about his arms to prevent movement. “No harm will--”

“Mina, you do not understand.” Johnathan cried fervently, tears now clinging to his concave cheeks. “What I saw, what I know...Promise me. Promise me now, if you ever cared for me, if you ever considered me your true friend, that you will allow me to fulfill my sacred vow. It should be awful for you to die a widow but even worse to leave you the destitute fiancé of a weak willed madman. I could not bear it. I could never.”

“Johnathan-”

In a fit of passion, Johnathan sat ramrod straight in the bed and scrambled at the collar of her dress. “Please promise me.” He begged like a man possessed.

Mina held her breath for a count of ten, trying and failing to summon calm. “I…” without direction, her mind flew to Lucy, a fraction of a second spent imagining how it would feel to hold her close, to be with her completely, to drench her in the intimate and obscene. To kiss her. To lie with her. A child’s fantasy if there ever was one. Mina gently pried Johnathan’s fingers loose of her dress and embraced him. “I will.”

With her confirmation, the repellent animation tethering Johnathan to wakefulness left him in a rush. He collapsed back on the bed, one hand still trapped within her own. “Soon?” He asked softly as he cradled the hand close to his chest.

“Soon.” She whispered but he had already departed into the realm of dreams and nightmares. Thus, she was left alone to dwell in the ponderence of baser emotions and moral responsibility. 

As usual, it was a pointless endeavor.

[Written in Shorthand]

_ 30 Mar. Whitby. - Note to self, talk with priest about private ceremony. Allow no delay. _

* * *

Lucy was profoundly unhappy to be working on her rounds rather than assisting Dr. Van Helsing and Aubrey. Even the fussiest of toddlers and the densest of doctors would be preferable to working with Dr. Seward and his ungrateful wretches for patients. It shouldn’t be forgotten that Lucy adored her job, but when such things as mistreated children and vampiric victims entered her scope, her priorities became more focused. 

To make matters even more difficult, Mina was nowhere to be found and Lucy was left alone with a man who had been begging for whiskey for the past hour even as he was dying from tuberculosis. “Sir, I must assure you that water will be far more helpful for your condition,” Lucy explained. He made a noise of put on agony and she rolled her eyes. “Besides, sir, the hospital does not stock whiskey because it is not a medical necessity.” He thrashed his head from side to side in the hopes it might persuade her. He was sorely mistaken. “Sir, I’m going to ask you to pull yourself together.” Lucy said as she folded her hands against her stomach. “I will continue caring for you when you stop throwing this temper tantrum.” He opened one eye at her and scowled. 

The door to the ward opened not a moment too soon as she turned to who she hoped would be her dear doctor with an update of Aubrey. Alas, instead of the kind eyes of Dr. Van Helsing, she was met with one Mr. Dracula, perhaps the only person in this hospital who could make her situation worse. 

“Mr. Dracula,” she said cooly, trying to keep her discomfort from the patients eyeing her. 

“Nurse Westenra,” he answered easily. “I come with a message from our dear Dr. Van Helsing.” Though she bristled at the word ‘our,’ she waited to hear his piece. “He would like to meet with you in his lab to discuss the state of Mr. Aubrey.”

“And?” Lucy asked. 

“And that is all. He is a very clingy child.” Lucy barely listened to him and left with a huff only to turn and see that she was being followed. “It seems as though you may have a problem with my presence.” She decided not to grace his unasked question with an answer. “Especially around the boy.”

This made Lucy turn. “No, I cannot say I am very comfortable with your presence. With the child or otherwise.”

“Your dear Dr. Van Helsing seems to think differently,” a smirk played across his damnable features. 

“With all due respect to him, he is about as trusting as a lamb with just as sweet a temperment. Ergo, he should not be the scale with which you measure your own trustworthiness.” Lucy willed her expression to sit evenly and pleasantly in her eyes. She cocked her head suggestively. “Perhaps you should find someone more difficult to please.”

“Like you?” he asked.

“Like me,” she replied trading her bitterness and scorn for the coy roguishness of her sport. 

“Perfect, because I was beginning to think I had lost my chance for dinner,” he said, creeping ever closer. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling. Though I think it’s only fair to warn you that I am unconquerable.” She placed a delicate finger against her jaw to draw attention to the fine planes of her face. The doe eyes she conjured seemed to invalidate her entire claim, and that’s exactly what she needed. 

“So why do you plan to meet me, Lucy?” The way he growled her given name sent an unpleasant shiver up her spine. “Why, if you distrust me so?”

“I find you fascinating and intriguing and though it may be the death of me, I am dogged by curiosity,” she said. 

“I assure you, it would not be your death,” Mr. Dracula said as he tried to snake his hands around her waist. She hit his wrist hard with the back of her hand and he drew away. 

“I shall see you tomorrow, Vlad.” She allowed his name to drip of her tongue like bitter honey. “And don’t even think about being late.”

Lucy sauntered off towards Dr. Van Helsing’s lab before Mr. Dracula could get another word in, greatly pleased to find the door had been left unlocked. She knocked lightly and was able to open it with very little sound.

The sight that greeted he was the sweetest thing she had ever seen. Little Aubrey with clean and fluffy hair was curled sound asleep against Dr. Van Helsing’s chest with a small train tucked under his arm. Lucy pulled a chair close to them and waited for his diagnosis.

“How is he faring?” she asked as she pushed a rogue curl from his forehead. His skin was warmer than she should have liked, and his cheeks a little more flushed. 

“Far better,” Dr. Van Helsing explained. “He has...many cuts and bruises, but with proper treatment they will heal. He frightens easily, but given his situation that is to be expected, unfortunately.” Lucy ran a gentle hand down the small child’s back, feeling the steadiness of his breaths. 

“And his cough?” she asked, fearing the answer. 

“He clearly has a pulmonary infection of some sort,” he said with a sharp exhale of air. Lucy felt something wicked and twisting curl in her throat. “When he coughed earlier there was no sign of blood or whitish discharge. It’s not necessarily…” he trailed away.

“But sometimes there isn’t--” Lucy started to say before Dr. Van Helsing placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“I know, I know,” Dr. Van Helsing whispered. “But we must keep up hope. When he wakes, I’ll be able to ask more clarifying questions so we can get an accurate diagnosis.” There was a bubble of silence and Lucy was afraid to speak. 

“Oh Abraham!” she said, terrified at how thin and fragile her voice had become. 

“Lucy,” he soothed. “We will be able to take care of him. Regardless of what ails him, he’ll have a better life now.”

Lucy nodded slowly and tried to will the tears from her eyes. She had never thought life was cruel. Merciless and haunting, but never cruel. She had to remind herself that life had not afflicted such horrors onto this small child, other people had. Hopefully these mysterious other people would never come knocking and she and Dr. Van Helsing could keep Aubrey safe forever. 

“Must he stay here?” Lucy asked, eyeing the dark, damp stone of the lab. This hospital was no place for a child, especially an anxious one. The chaos and violence that often swirled through those wards were a completely unneeded stress for Aubrey. 

“No, I shouldn’t think so.” Dr. Van Helsing shook his head and frowned. “I figured it might be beneficial for him to come home with one of us and then return in the morning.” Lucy nodded slowly. “Hopefully we will be able to convince our sweet little patient that most people don’t want to do him harm.”

“I agree,” Lucy said as she gently pet Aubrey’s hair. “I was going to ask Mina to help me find him more suitable clothes and maybe a few toys this evening. Would you like to come by her cottage and see to Jonathan as well?”

“I think that is agreeable to everyone,” Dr. Van Helsing said as Aubrey’s round, chestnut eyes blinked open. “Is that agreeable, Mr. Aubrey? Would you like to go home with Nurse Westenra tonight?” 

The boy said nothing, but reached for Lucy’s arms. She gladly took him from Dr. Van Helsing’s grasp and smiled as he stretched out the knots in his back and shoulders. “That is a very pretty train,” Lucy said as the child experimentally spun one of the wheels. Aubrey nodded in agreement. “I do think you’ll like Mina’s cottage. There are many pretty flowers and all sorts of wonderful things. We will be her guests and she’ll do nice things for us, like making us tea and we’ll do nice things for her like helping her clean.” Lucy smiled as he wrapped his thin arms around her neck and rest his head on her shoulder. “Would you like to come with us?”

“I must say, you should take this offer, Mr. Aubrey,” Dr Van Helsing said with a small smile. “I have hardly met kinder people in my entire life.”

Aubrey nodded into her shoulder and Lucy was content. As soon as it was acceptable, they left for Mina’s ivy cottage. The spring day was warm and light with birds and butterflies buzzing around. All in all, it was a perfect day to reintroduce a child to the world of the living. They mostly walked quietly with Dr. Van Helsing interjecting every so often to remark on the genus and species of some new animal for Aubrey’s benefit. 

As they were enjoying their peaceful walk to the seaside, Lucy happened to catch the attention of an absolutely dreadful looking Dr. Seward. 

“Hello Doctor,” Lucy said pleasantly, despite his judging eyes. “Is it not a beautiful day today?”

“Why yes it is,” he hummed. “You two have left rather earlier than I would have expected.” His eyes followed from Lucy to Dr. Van Helsing and to Aubrey before finally setting on Lucy again. “Care for an explanation?”

“We are taking Aubrey back home so we may care for him without the hustle and bustle of the hospital and Dr. Van Helsing is going to care for Jonathan,” she explained calmly. Truly, judging by the bags under his eyes, they should have stayed to help mitigate some of the chaos, but there were far more important things to deal with.

“Very well,” Dr. Seward sighed, “But I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow.”

“I assure you, sir, we are always bright and early,” Dr. Van Helsing added. With a final look at their odd trio, he left and they were alone once more. 

“One of us is definitely going to hear about the topic of our non-engagement tomorrow,” Lucy said lightly. It was a subject that tended to come up often since she spent so much time with her dear doctor. No harm had come from it yet, but Dr. Seward was currently in a position where he could make there be harm and she and Dr. Van Helsing were doing nothing to stay on his good side. 

Dr. Van Helsing shrugged as they continued walking. A few times, Aubrey requested to be put down so he could walk a few paces or chase a butterfly, but he always returned to Lucy’s arms. In her mind, she knew that it would do her worse to become attached to this boy, but her heart had already made up its mind. 

As they walked to Mina’s doorstep Aubrey seemed particularly fascinated with the bush of honeysuckle. He reached out for a golden flower but was frightened when a pair of humblebees flew too close. “It’s alright,” Lucy said gently as she plucked the flower from the bush. She handed it to the child and he looked at the blossom in confusion. “It’s quite a treat. If you suck on the end, it’s very sweet.” 

With this information, Aubrey stuck the entire flower in his mouth and seemed very proud of himself. Lucy was fairly certain that it would neither kill nor harm him, so she let it go. 

“That reminds me!” Dr. Van Helsing said as he clapped his hands together. “I prescribed Mr. Aubrey here a sweet, did I not, and I am a man of my word,” he said as he ruffled a smiling Aubrey’s hair. “Would you please pick me up a few when you go into town?”

“Of course,” Lucy beamed, “And what type of sweets do you like?” Aubrey said nothing and only blinked. It hadn’t crossed Lucy’s mind that he may never have properly had a sweet before. 

“Mina,” Lucy called as she gently pushed the door open. “I’m back and I’ve bought two wonderful young gentlemen.”

Mina appeared around the corner, and though she was smiling, something seemed off with her expression. Otherwise, it was quiet, so Lucy assumed Jonathan had calmed down. 

“How wonderful it is to see you again, Master Aubrey,” Mina said with a smile. “And you too Dr. Van Helsing.”

“Would you like to come shopping with me?” Lucy asked. “I must write a letter home to my mother first, but it should be quite nice.”

“Of course,” she said, her voice stilted as well. It was curious, very curious and Lucy did not like it one bit. “Though I do not think our dear Jonathan is ready to look after a child.”

“Nonsense,” Dr. Van Helsing waved his hand. “I’ll look after the two of them and there’s nothing you will need to worry about.” Mina nodded cheerlessly and led him to her fiancé as Lucy brought out her paper and ink. Aubrey seemed content to sit on her lap and play with a spare piece of paper and so she was able to write. 

_ London, England., _

_ March. 30, 1885. _

_ My dearest Mother, _

_ Today I have acquired a small child. Now, you mustn’t worry because I neither birthed him, nor did I take a husband without your knowing. As you know, I continue to be the perfect picture of a socially acceptable daughter. In any case, could be so kind and see if you have any of my old toys and such from when I was a toddler? I’m afraid this boy was left with the sum total of absolutely nothing and I intend to rectify that situation as swiftly as possible. If you find anything useful, please send it to my apartment in Hyde Park, for I believe I will be returning with Dr. Van Helsing in two weeks. Also, before you even ask, Dr. Van Helsing has not proposed, nor does he intend to. I look forward to seeing you soon and having you meet my sweet little Aubrey.  _

_ Your loving daughter _

_ Lucy _

_ Ms. Lucy A. Westenra, _

_ Ivy Cottage Whitby. _

While she was writing, Mina had magically appeared in the drawing room and started to talk to Aubrey. After a tense couple of minutes spent trying to convince Aubrey it was safe to leave Lucy’s lap, they were able to go to the market. 

“It feels strange,” Lucy said, linking arms with Mina, “Having barely seen you all day today. I know we are not usually at liberty to speak, but typically I at least see you work.”

“Oh, I left earlier to care for Jonathan,” she said simply as she placed her hand over Lucy’s.

“And how is your sweet fiancé faring?” she asked, an odd prickling returning to the back of her throat. She wished dearly that she could throw her arms around Mina’s shoulders and hold her tight against the uncertainty in her eyes. 

“He is...well,” she took a deep breath and looked positively frantic. “He thinks we should get married immediately.”

“Immediately?” Lucy asked, happiness fading from her chest. 

“Immediately.” Mina confirmed, though she didn’t look too much happier. 

When Lucy allowed herself to think through their situation, she saw that this was surely a cause for celebration. Mina had been engaged and after so many trials, it was a beautiful thing that she and her dear Jonathan were finally able to get married and live together and have children. The moment of kindheartedness had faded and Lucy felt upset again. 

Of course, this level of displeasure was completely absurd. It was not as if Lucy were some scorned lover that Mina had left behind in their youth. There was no reason for this level of jealousy to rear its ugly head. Still, Lucy could not shake the look of sadness that swam in Mina’s eyes. How she longed to kiss the shadows of melancholy from her cheeks and return them to their natural blush. 

But no, that was not a luxury that could be afforded to her, so she spoke instead. “I am very happy for you! Have you started planning celebration?” she asked as Mina was examining a small shirt that would still probably be too big for Aubrey. 

“Oh, yes. Yes I have,” she said, frowning. Lucy thought it was highly distressing that Mina seemed so miserable at the thought of her own wedding. If she had half a mind, she would march right back to her cottage and get to the bottom of Jonathan’s intents. Unhappy marriages were one thing and they were fairly common, but not for her Mina.

Fueled by a new twinge of anger, Lucy felt compelled to change the conversation. “Have I told you about my newest theory regarding my case against Mr. Dracula?”

Mina perked up as soon as she heard the name. She brought over a bag of marshmallows and her eyes glowed with intrigue. “No, I don’t believe you have.”

“I think he may be a vampire,” Lucy said with dead seriousness. She was taken aback when Mina laughed softly. 

“A vampire? Really?” At least the laughter spread across Mina’s face was better than the sadness that was there before.

“Yes, truly. Dr. Van Helsing and I were examining the anemic blood samples and found that the level of red blood cells was far too high and it had very low clotting ability, almost as if to suggest it were being consumed in large quantities like a giant leech.” Lucy bounced on the balls of her feet as she picked out a pair of little shoes for Aubrey.

“Lucy, I don’t think that makes--”

“Oh, I’m not finished yet. Now, Arthur brought to my attention the notion of a vampire when he was dealing with Quincy, and that would technically qualify as a giant leech. I haven’t yet been able to do additional research, but I noticed Mr. Dracula has an extra set of canine teeth, which is highly unusual in healthy humans. I believe if we were to tests the contents of his saliva, we would find a similar compound to what leeches inject into their prey.”

“Lucy, you are missing one very crucial part to your theory,” Mina explained gently. “Vampire aren’t real.”

“Were you not the one to insist to me, just a few days ago, that there were women without shadows walking around Bran Castle?” Lucy said, aghast. “And did you not also insist that there was a supernatural element to this case? Well, here it is, staring us right in the face.”

Once they were out of the shop and away from the prying eyes and ears of the townspeople, Mina answered her. “It is not that I don’t believe you; that is just a heavy accusation to level upon a man with only circumstantial evidence. How will you find more?”

“Don’t worry, my dear friend,” Lucy said as she grabbed Mina’s hand. “I have a plan that I will exact over dinner tomorrow. We will be able to test his saliva for this anticoagulant and catch him in his fiendish machnications against your Jonathan and my Dr. Van Helsing.” 

“I believe you,” Mina said as she raised a hand to Lucy’s cheek before entering her house. Lucy played with Aubrey as Mina and Dr. Van Helsing talked about Jonathan. Things like dinner came and went and the three of them were able to get ready for bed. 

Tonight, she didn’t argue with Mina about sleeping in her bed. She wanted to share every last second she possibly could before she was lost to Jonathan forever. If it weren’t for that ever looming date, Lucy would have thought this night ideal, nestled softly in bed with Mina and Aubrey.

  
  



	6. Chapter VI: Friday, 03/31/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham talks about the birds and the flowers. Mina becomes an architect. Lucy shoves her hand down a man's throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, we love comments and kudos!

Abraham returned to the hospital at half-past four the next morning, keeping thoroughly his promise to Dr. Seward to be there bright and early. To be fair, so early in the morning things were not bright. It was well known that hospitals were either completely still or completely nightmarish at the odd hours of the night and early morning, and this proved to be a completely nightmarish morning. 

“Mr. Renfield,” Abraham said very slowly, uneasy at handling psychiatric patients on his own. “I do ask that you release that poor rat.” 

“Why, Doctor?” The man asked, grinning at him with bloodied teeth. This particular patient seemed to be the root of the issue this morning, as he would scream at full volume and bash his head against the wall without some sort of small animal to maim. With one hand behind his back, Abraham had a syringe of morphine prepared. All he needed was the vein. 

“I fear you may catch an illness from consuming raw meat,” Abraham lied. He was concerned because it was, well, deeply disturbing. “Now, what say you hand me the rat and we can discuss a reasonable solution to your anxiety?”   
Renfield laughed at him; a sick retching sound, really. “You _are_ the good Doctor, aren’t you?” He said with a twisted smile. “The one Mr. Dracula is so excited for and the one Dr. Seward feels so insecure about.” 

Abraham clenched his jaw, wracking his brain for any training on dealings with the insane. Do you entertain their conversations or ignore them? “I cannot speak for Mr. Dracula or Dr. Seward. Now, may we return to discussions of the state of your head, and perhaps putting down the rat?” 

“Are you not curious what they say about you?” Renfield asked with a tilt of his head. Abraham grimaced as a drop of blood dribbled down his chin, though whether it his own or the rat’s, he could not tell. 

“I regret to inform you that I am not a particularly curious man,” Abraham said. A bold-faced lie, but quite frankly he just wanted to be done with the exam. Bandage Renfield’s head and bolt. 

“Ha!” Renfield laughed, though he did drop the deceased rat so that he could clap his hands. “You’re lying! How fun!” Abraham jumped at the tone, nearly revealing the needle. 

“I don’t discuss the personal feelings of my fellow medical practitioners,” Abraham sighed. “Now, Mr. Renfield. Your forehead is in rather a state and I would prefer to see that cared for than left to fester.” 

“I like it this way,” Renfield said with wide eyes, touching his fingers lightly to the gash on his head. “Mr. Dracula is so fond of the color red, after all,” he added with a strange smirk. 

“I’m sure Mr. Dracula would want you to be bandaged up and comfortable as well,” Abraham said, patience reaching a limit he didn’t know existed. 

“Oh, no!” Renfield said seriously. “Mr. Dracula would find it becoming, I believe.” 

Abraham pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated the psychiatric ward, he decided. Never again would he willingly work in a mental hospital. “Mr. Renfield, I must insist on fixing you up. Dying of sepsis is no fun for anyone, now is it?” 

“It could be,” Renfield mused to himself. Abraham took a hesitant step forward, carefully maneuvering around the rat. 

“Now, we have two options for this,” Abraham said slowly. “One, I can give you an injection to keep you calm and to relieve pain, and patch you up-”

“No!” Renfield shrieked, causing Abraham to jump. “I won’t be drugged like a lunatic!”

“Very well,” Abraham said stiffly. “Option two is that you hold very still and allow me to clean and bandage your head.” 

“That will work,” Renfield said. “But only if you talk to me. Like a man.” 

“I…” Abraham groaned. It was the better option by far, but he did hate personal talks. “Very well.” Renfield gave him a giddy smile and Abraham discarded the needle.

“You’re young,” Renfield said as he dabbed a clean cloth with a dilute mix of carbolic acid. “Are you married?” 

“I am not,” Abraham said as he capped the acid solution. “This will sting a bit.” Renfield did not flinch even a bit as he cleaned the messy but shallow gash.

“Oh, a shame,” Renfield hummed. “I suppose you prefer male company to the fairer sex?” Abraham bristled, but made no outwards reaction. 

"I prefer no company to medicine,” Abraham said curtly, though he handled Renfield’s head gently as he swept his greasy hair well away from the wound. 

“That can’t be true, Doctor.” Abraham ground his teeth as Renfield shook his head, thus ruining his bandaging attempts and getting his filthy hair back in the cut. He sanitized it again. 

“I believe you’ll find that many people share my sentiments,” Abraham said through his teeth. “A wife would require attention and time, even without children. I shouldn’t want to have to choose between them and my patients.” 

“But what of companionship that can follow you into the surgical theatre?” Renfield asked slyly. “That of someone who could bear you neither children nor marriage?” 

  
“Renfield,” Abraham said rigidly as he once again thwarted his efforts to neatly bandage his head. “I insist that you hold still.” 

“I insist that we talk as equals,” Renfield urged. “Bosom buddies. Intimate friends, perhaps.” He said the last as if it were indecent or forbidden. “What is your first name?” 

“Abraham,” he replied awkwardly. He made a mental note to refuse to work again with this individual. There was no reason besides the general terror of Renfield’s habits to prevent a nurse from doing this. 

“ _ Abraham _ ,” Renfield sang, tilting his head away again. “The patriarch. Why are you so shy, then?” 

“Your head, Renfield,” Abraham almost cried. “Please hold still!”

“It’s not so odd, you know,” Renfield whispered, finally still. Never in his life had Abraham bandaged someone so quickly. He set about packing his bag. “You have to ask me what I’m talking about,” Renfield prompted. 

Abraham took a deep breath and turned around to face him one last time. “What isn’t odd?” Abraham relented. 

“You know,” Renfield hummed with a smirk. “Preferring the bee to the flower. I think you’ll find you aren’t alone, even in such a small building as this.” 

Abraham reminded himself that Renfield was, in fact, clinically insane. He gathered his irritation into a neat pile and put on his bravest face. “Mr. Renfield, I appreciate your free-thinking look on life, but you are quite mistaken.”

“I am not,” Renfield pouted. “I have an informant.” 

“Oh?” Abraham said casually as he gathered his jacket and bag. It was typical, after all, for the insane to have invisible companions and voices.

“Oh, yes,” Renflied said happily. His tone darkened quickly. “But you’re taking him away with you. Back to London.” 

Abraham froze in place as he reached the door, turning back to face him. He had nothing to say, but he shuddered as he saw the sharp intelligence in Renfield’s maddened eyes. 

“You should bring me with you!” Renfield said, clapping as he met Abraham’s eyes. “Oh, what fun it would be! Mr. Dracula could bring me a kitten at last!”

“Good day, Renfield,” Abraham said abruptly as he left and locked the cell. Tuberculosis ward. He needed to go back to what he knew. 

He almost screamed as he saw little Aubrey playing near the entrance to the tuberculosis ward. Was everyone set on panicking him today? Luckily, the moment the boy saw him he ran towards him and thus away from the nightmarishly contagious consumptive patients. 

“Helsing!” Aubrey whispered excitedly, tugging at his pant leg. 

“Yes, yes,” Abraham groaned, kneeling to pick the boy up. “Where is Nurse Westenra? This is a very poor choice of playground, my dear boy.” 

Aubrey, unsurprisingly, did not respond beyond clutching his thin arms tightly around Abraham’s neck. The toddler was well behind where he ought to be in terms of verbal development, but that was common given the trauma. Abraham awkwardly bent to retrieve the toy train only to have a freezing set of fingers beat him to it. 

“I see he likes the train,” Mr. Dracula said as Abraham righted himself. He was quite possibly the last person he wished to see at present. 

“He does,” Abraham said politely, smoothing back Aubrey’s curls as the boy hid from Mr. Dracula. “Forgive him, he’s rather shy.” 

Mr. Dracula gave him a handsome if slightly put-out smile. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said kindly, handing the train back to Aubrey. “You could be his father, he looks so like you.

“Would you happen to know where I can find Nurse Westenra?” Abraham asked tiredly. “I have several patients to see in the tuberculosis ward, and I am strongly against allowing Mr. Aubrey to accompany me.” 

“I am afraid I don’t know where she is at present,” Mr. Dracula said politely. “I won’t see her again until tonight, I believe.” 

“What’s happening tonight?” Abraham asked, brow furrowing as he tried to recall what sort of meeting must have been scheduled. “Are we meeting tonight?” 

Mr. Dracula gave him an apologetic smile. “Ah, no. I will be meeting her for dinner this evening,” he said. An odd feeling settled itself in his chest. It was akin to dread, but sharper.

“I see,” Abraham nodded. “I’m sure you two will enjoy yourselves.” 

Mr. Dracula tilted his head, strange eyes narrowing on him with interest. Abraham suddenly felt the unbearable urge to look at Aubrey instead, smoothing an invisible snarl in his well-brushed hair. 

“Are you quite alright, Abraham?” Mr. Dracula asked quietly, taking a step closer. Abraham pricked at the use of his first name. Even Nurse Westenra said it only rarely, and he’d known her for years. Hell, he didn’t even know Mr. Dracula’s first name.

“Doctor will suffice,” Abraham said stiffly. “Excuse me, I must go find a suitable guardian for Mr. Aubrey, or else find him a mask to wear.” 

“Did I misspeak, Doctor?” Mr. Dracula asked sweetly as Abraham tried to brush past him. Abraham wished everyone would simply let him do his job, but he turned around anyways. 

“No, Mr. Dracula. I am just unused to being spoken to so informally at work, and I truly do need to find a safe place for Aubrey.” 

“Of course,” Mr. Dracula recovered quickly with a grin. Abraham noted with half-interest what seemed to be double canines in his mouth. “Would it be alright for me to shadow your rounds again today?” 

_ No, _ Abraham thought miserably. “Of course,” he said, forcing a smile. He nearly jumped on Nurse Murray as she came up the stairs. “Nurse Murray!”

“Yes, Doctor?” She said, obviously mildly surprised. 

“Will you be leaving early again today? To attend to Mr. Harker?” Abraham asked eagerly. Aubrey finally emerged from his hiding place against his coat, glancing shyly at Nurse Murray. 

“I will,” Nurse Murray nodded hesitantly, glancing between the look of obvious desperation on Abraham’s face, Mr. Dracula, and little Aubrey. “You would like me to take him with me?” 

“Yes, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Abraham said apologetically. “I have to see to the tuberculosis ward today and I am quite determined not to be followed by my newest assistant,” he said affectionately, patting Aubrey’s head lightly. “He could also use some fresh bandages.” 

“I can see to that,” Nurse Murray said with a smile, opening her arms. Abraham tried to hand Aubrey over, only to find the child clinging to him tightly. 

“Aubrey, you must let go,” Abraham said gently. 

“No!” The boy screamed, startling all of them. “No!”

“Aubrey, it’s alright-” Nurse Murray started, only to be cut off by another blood-curdling wail. Abraham couldn’t think what to do other than rock the now-sobbing child. 

“Mr. Aubrey,” Abraham said, hesitantly kissing the boy’s brow. “Nurse Murray will bring you back home and make you a lovely cup of tea,” he offered. 

“No,” Aubrey said, pulling away and making eye contact with Abraham, who found his willpower and resolve greatly challenged by the fear in the boy’s big brown eyes. “Come too.” 

“I will visit you this evening,” Abraham reasoned. “Is that agreeable?” 

“That may be wise,” Nurse Murray whispered as Aubrey continued to stare him down. “Since Nurse Westenra will be out, and I will need to see to Jonathan.” 

“Hear that, Master Aubrey?” Abraham forced a bright smile. “I shall be your companion this evening. We can go for a walk and discuss the intricacies of the theory of the four humours. But first, you must go with Nurse Murray so that I can finish my work. Alright?” 

“Alright,” Aubrey muttered sadly. He finally detached from Abraham and allowed Nurse Murray to hold him, though Abraham couldn’t help but notice the unbearably accusatory and rueful look the toddler gave him. 

“He’s grown very attached,” Mr. Dracula observed as they finally began their rounds. 

“He is traumatized,” Abraham sighed. He looked mournfully over the semi-conscious form of one of the latter-stage patients. Abraham knelt beside the woman, administering a heavy dose of morphine intravenously. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as her breathing began to level. By his estimates, she had hours; days, at most. 

“Morphine?” Mr. Dracula asked quietly. “Does that help?” 

“It helps ease the way,” Abraham said sadly. He patted Mr. Dracula hesitantly on the arm. “You will see a lot of suffering in this work. It is good to know when to abandon exhausting treatments in favor of a painless passing.” 

“I see,” Mr. Dracula nodded grimly. “Is there nothing to be done?” 

“With consumption?” Abraham said as they went to the next patient. A young man in the middle stages, in for associated pneumonia. Abraham dug the cough medicine from his bag; a mix of codeine, alcohol, mint extract and dilute cocaine. It was of his own design, and it tended to go over well. Certainly better than some of the widely-distributed brands. 

“Is it incurable?” Mr. Dracula whispered. Abraham looked at him morosely. 

“I try not to say so,” he said as quietly as he could. “But yes. Some will recover, but not by the hand of medicine. It can be slow; a patient may be intermittently ill for decades; but it will claim its due.” 

“How tragic,” Mr. Dracula said with a frown. Abraham nodded, preparing his stethoscope for the next patient. 

“Prepare yourself for death in this work,” Abraham whispered. “And know that, as a physician, you too are at great risk.” 

“We will see about that, I suppose,” Mr. Dracula said with odd detachment. It made sense. Abraham remembered feeling invincible in the early days of his training; before he saw the limitless destruction such ailments as consumption could wreak on even the healthiest and most hygienic of people. Disease, after all, did not care a bit for one’s status, let alone a medical degree or an understanding of its machinations. If anything, it only raised the stakes.

As they reached the end of the list of patients that needed to be seen, Abraham was quite pleased with Mr. Dracula’s progress. His comprehension of breathing sounds was improving, and he made correct prescriptions for fever, cough, and even morphine, though Abraham was not yet willing to let him perform the injection. They’d even had the pleasure of performing a simple surgery to drain a severely agitated infection in a man’s leg. It almost made up for the nagging stress of Mr. Dracula and Nurse Westenra’s meeting, which was now a mere hour or so away. 

What did make up for it was little Aubrey, who ran directly into him as he opened the door to Nurse Murray’s cottage. Perhaps he could, in fact, understand why some would abandon the noble pursuits of medicine in favor of a family and children. He sighed as he followed Aubrey to where he was playing with his train. Nurse Westenra and Mr. Dracula would be a handsome couple, should this dinner go well. He tried not to dwell upon it, nor the fact that it was not Mr. Dracula that he was envious of. 

* * *

Mina had always associated the presence of children within the household as a source of chaos and disorder. She herself had been a fright of a child, always drenched to the bone by salt water, stinking of seaweed even in the dead of winter, and running all day between the beach and the bedroom with only brief allowances given to dinner.

Aubrey appeared to be of an entirely different constitution, however, as one might expect of a traumatized child. It gave Mina pause as she considered how best to appeal to the perpetually frightened and quiet child before her. Without the naturally charming Lucy or the non-threatening Van Helsing there, Mina found Aubrey entirely unwilling to entertain her presence. It was quite, she eventually decided, like talking to Renfield. The boy, though sensitive, responded well to be treated as her equal and to being given free reign within the parameters she placed. In this manner and upon arriving home, she directed him to the sitting room and spoke to him plainly.

“Would care for me to play with you?” She asked firstly. Aubrey’s eyes widened at the sudden balance of power given to him but said nothing while she stood a measure away, arms crossed behind her back. Eventually, he shook his head, grip tightening on the train.

Mina smiled kindly to show she was not offended. “Would you care for me to remain in the room with you?” Another silence. Another shake of the head as Aubrey studied Mina’s relaxed and open form. 

“Very well.” She said, taking a deliberate step back. “In that case, I shall go attend to my fiancé at present. If you should need assistance or require company, please do fetch me, Master Aubrey. We shall change your bandages in an hour or so as well. Do you find that agreeable?”

Aubrey nodded. He cuddled the train to his chest and Mina was struck by the sharp reminder that, beyond the hard edged toy, Aubrey owned nothing. Yet quickly an idea followed. 

“Master Aubrey,” Mina said, “would you be so kind as to fetch me that sewing basket?”

Aubrey hastened across the room and returned with the basket, dropping it a few feet from Mina. She allowed him time to retreat before kneeling on the floor. “Now,” she instructed with a pleasant tone, “what do you know of train lines?”

Aubrey’s light brown eyes narrowed in confusion, the first true sign of emotion he’d offered to her since departing the hospital. “Train lines?” He asked.

“Train lines.” Mina confirmed as she drew a meter of red yarn from her basket and unfurled it around her palm. “I couldn’t help but take notice of the beautiful locomotive in your possession. What do you say we give your train some tracks?”

Mina took the yarn in her hand and spread it out across the warped hardwood floor, traveling from the door to the sofa and rounding back again. Aubrey watched her work inquisitively, leaning forward on his knees to keep the lines in view as Mina spread a blue one perpendicular to the red and a green one near to parallel. She snatched three thimbles from her basket and handed them to Aubrey. 

“Those can be towns.” She explained. “And these,” she retrieved a set of knitting needles, “crossings.”

Aubrey accepted the offerings hesitantly and surveyed the scene laid before him. After a moment of intense deliberation, he placed one thimble at the head of the green line. “Whitby.” He announced. 

“Very good.” Mina said approvingly. Sweeping to her feet, she grabbed the soft blue blanket from the arm of the sofa, disregarded from Lucy’s temporary protest to sleeping in her bed, and spread it across the floor by Thimble Whitby to indicate an ocean. 

Aubrey skittered around it and fluffed the blanket to make waves, smiling proudly at his work as Mina procured a silver hairbrush boat. 

“What other towns would you have us imagine?” She prompted once Whitby was sorted. 

Aubrey bit his lip and seemed to retreat back into himself at her words. “I don’t know.” He said guiltily. 

Mina smiled at him. “How about London?” She suggested. “That is where Dr. Van Helsing and the lovely Miss Lucy hail from.”

Aubrey seemed sated and sought to place Thimble London beside Thimble Whitby.

Mina stopped him with a gentle hand over his own. “Master Aubrey, London is not so close as that. You will have to put the thimble over by the red line.”

“But that is so far.” Aubrey protested, little face scrunched in the child’s equivocation of despair. 

“It is far.” Mina moved closer and, at his allowance, pulled Aubrey into her lap. “But with trains it is far quicker.” Despite the assurance, Aubrey continued to stare at the train lines, breath growing thinner as his mind ran ahead of him. 

Mina cuddled him and tucked his head beneath her chin. “Why is this upsetting to you?” She asked softly.

Aubrey shook his head forcefully.

“Do you fear Dr. Van Helsing and Miss Lucy will return there without you?”

Aubrey drew an arm across his nose as he nodded.

With the utmost care, Mina turned Aubrey in her lap so that they could face one another. “Master Aubrey, you needn't worry and, in fact, you mustn’t. My dear Lucy would never dream of leaving you behind and neither would the doctor. They are kind people, to my knowledge, and not want to break promises.” Aubrey still looked vaguely miserable, eyes fixed on the thimble. Mina lifted his chin to focus his gaze. “Would you take either of your caretakers as liars?” She asked.

“...No.” Aubrey said though his brow remained furrowed and his eyes averted.

“No?” Mina tipped her head to one side.

“No.” Aubrey’s voice grew firmer.

Mina smiled. “Then there is nothing to fear.” She released him from her lap and watched in contented silence as the boy scampered about the room, a sudden burst of energy inspiring him to declare ten more thimble towns and a scant few landmarks before he settled into running his train along the makeshift tracks. 

Satisfied, Mina rose to leave but Aubrey latched tight to her hand within an instant. “Stay?” He asked.

Mina patted his head. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I must go attend to Mr. Harker. I’ll return to you in a few minutes.”

Aubrey thought it over and seemed to find this arrangement most disagreeable. “Stay.” He repeated insistently. Then, “Mr. Harker can come out here.”

Mina considered it and could find no reason to protest. “Very well,” she said. Time away from his bed may indeed be an aid to Johnathan’s condition and the imminent arrival of Van Helsing insured that soon enough the young Master Aubrey would be distracted from her existence once more. 

Johnathan was asleep, curled into one corner of the bed with his back to the wall. With a now practiced hand, Mina smoothed him out of whatever manner of nightmare had taken hold of him and hushed his startled cry. “It is Mina.” She said.

“Mina?” Johnathan repeated as a confirmation. She gave him time to scour the room, as was his custom, then pressed water to his lips. Johnathan gulped it greedily and made no complaint as she set about drawing him to his feet. 

“Are we to go on a walk?” He asked weakly while Mina righted him and shielded his shoulders with a blanket. “I’m afraid I’ll be rotten company if you are of the mind to climb to the chapel.”

Mina shook her head as a small smile graced her lips. “Only to the living room.” She corrected Johnathan.

He made a brief show of pouting, although the concavity of his cheeks rendered the usually boyish charm of the action pathetic and sad. “Ah, well, that’s no fun at all.”

“I think you’ll find it more so than expected.” She said. “We have a young visitor. A conductor.”

“A conductor?” Johnathan asked, a note of brisk panic brushing his jagged vocal cords. “And you intend to place me on display as I am?”

“Hush.” Mina said firmly. “You are fine. Come along.” With no further elaboration, she guided Johnathan into the living room to find Aubrey now tucked into the leg of a happy Van Helsing. As they entered the doorway, both looked up. 

“Mr. Harker, Nurse Murray.” Van Helsing greeted them warmly while young Aubrey hid himself behind the man’s leg, peeking out with curious but cautious eyes towards Johnathan. “I apologize to have shown myself inside but Aubrey was quite insistent.”

“That’s perfectly alright.” Mina answered with equal familiarity to Van Helsing. An urgency entered her step as Johnathan suddenly leaned his full weight upon her shoulder and she hastened to settle him on the sofa. 

Though he was plainly exhausted by the short journey from the bedroom, Johnathan insisted on sitting straight against the back of the couch and softly refused the blanket she offered. It wasn’t immediately clear whether the act was for the benefit of the nervous child or Van Helsing but Johnathan offered a shaky smile to both. “Doctor,” he addressed Helsing first, “it is good to see you. I hope Whitby is treating you well?”

“Of course.” Van Helsing said. “It’s a lovely town.” He paused and carefully guided Aubrey out from behind his leg. The boy instantly sought to clamber into his arms, which Helsing allowed without protest. “Mr. Harker, this is Aubrey. He is another one of my patients at the hospital.”

With great effort and Mina’s aid, Johnathan sat forward and held out a hand to Aubrey. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Aubrey. I am most glad to welcome such wonderful company into our home.”

“Wonderful?” Aubrey inquired as he stared at Johnathan’s hand.

“But of course,” Johnathan smiled, expression as open and tenderhearted as a new mother’s. “My darling Mina informs me that you are a talented conductor. It is a great honor to host such a man as you.”

Taken by surprise at the praise, Aubrey hid his head in Van Helsing’s waistcoat, though Mina could see the happy flush of his cheeks. Van Helsing smiled down at the boy. 

“You are a conductor now, are you?” Van Helsing sweetly coaxed Aubrey free of his chest. He gestured to the thimble and yarn kingdom beneath his feet. “You’ll have to show me everything you have created.”

While Aubrey engrossed himself in the process of explaining the rail system to Helsing, Johnathan collapsed back and closed his eyes. 

“I am proud of you,” He muttered as Mina sat beside him.

“How so?” She returned at equal volume.

“For once in your life, you have managed to discuss trains without falling into a rant about how the government designed them to center political power away from the Scots.”

Mina frowned and struck him lightly on the shoulder. “I am not so predictable,” she chided in a whisper. “Furthermore, it wasn’t the government who devised the railroad scheme but the illuminati.”

Johnathan laughed and, though the sound rapidly dissolved into a cough, it elated Mina to hear after months of its overbearing absence. With uncharastic tenderness, Mina grasped Johnathan’s hand and allowed herself to listen as Aubrey spoke excitedly to an entranced Van Helsing. Any distraction, she decided, was a welcome one from worrying about Lucy or contemplating her bleak future. And this evening was a most pleasant distraction indeed.

* * *

Lucy’s horrid day started the moment she walked through the doors of the hospital to find Dr. Seward glowering at her. Apparently, she was not as bright and early as he would have liked and he would have intended to make it known to everyone in earshot had it not been for Aubrey sitting in her arms. Instead, upon seeing the boy, his expression dissolved into one of the upmost worry. 

“I believe there are two people here to see him,” he said, whispering in her ear. Lucy felt her very blood run cold in her veins. “I have managed to convince them to speak to you first.” He squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel...uncomfortable with their presence and would be quite pleased if they never showed their faces here again. See to it that it is so.”

Dr. Seward left without offering to take Aubrey and Lucy had the sneaking suspicious that time was of the essence. “Alright, dearest one,” she said as she put Aubrey on the ground. “Do you remember the room you were in yesterday?” His wide eyes blinked at her before he nodded slowly. “Wonderful! I must speak with some...visitors and Dr. Van Helsing is not yet finished with his morning rounds. Could you be a dear and wait there for us to come get you again?” 

Aubrey seemed highly disagreeable to the situation and clung to Lucy’s skirt. The situation only became more dire as Mr. Dracula rounded the corner “No!” Aubrey cried. “Don’t leave me!”

Lucy’s heart broke at the sound of his feeble cries. She kneeled on the ground and held him tight in her arms. “Dearest, it won’t be for very long,” she whispered. “I’ll return before you even know it.” Her reassurances did little to ease his tears. “Are you afraid Dr. Van Helsing and I will never come back?” He nodded into her chest. Lucy tightened her grip and pressed her nose to the top of his head. “We will always return to you. No force in heaven or earth could keep us from you for very long. I promise.” He seemed at least partially placated by her words. “Now, will you be a very brave boy and go find your room?” Lucy asked. 

Aubrey nodded and raced towards the proper direction, carefully avoiding Mr. Dracula. “Would you like me to keep an eye on him?” he asked. “The hospital is no place for a child to run free.”

“I believe he will be quite alright, thank you very much,” Lucy huffed as she stood and brushed the dust off her skirt. She left before he could say anything else. Unfortunately it was easy to find Dr. Seward again as he was accompanied by two atrocious looking hags done up in fake lace and silk. Lucy briefly considered the notion that she lacked the self control to talk to them in a civilized manner, but quickly shook the thought from her head. 

“Nurse Westenra, this is Mr. and Mrs. Davies and they are here to inquire after their son, Lemuel Davies, who they suspect may have been brought here,” Dr. Seward explained as he led them to a private room. “I trust you will be able to answer their many questions and aid them in this process.”

Lucy noted the exceptional speed with which Dr. Seward left the room. She looked at these new and dreadful people as they eyed her like a piece of meat. She was about to open her mouth to speak, when all hell broke loose across the table. 

“It is just monstrous! Barbaric! To have our own son stripped from our house and dragged down to this wasteland of disease!” The woman said as she draped herself half on her husband’s arm and half on the table. “What cruel hands of fate could have tempted our darling little prince from our arms?”

Lucy raised an incredulous eyebrow and folded her hands in her lap. She thought for a moment how she technically still had Quincy’s knife, but that seemed a little extreme for now. 

“This is an outrage!” The man yelled as he banged his fist on the table. “How could we not have been informed? We were worried sick about him when he didn’t return home! How will we ever keep our little family business running without him? We will be run into the ground!” 

“Sir, with all due respect,” Lucy cut in. “Lemuel is a toddler and can scarcely work for an hour, much less enough to keep your bar running.” The name felt sticky and bitter in her mouth and Lucy vowed to never use it ever again. “Now, should you care to discuss how your dear son came into our care in the first place?”

“That hardly seems to be relevant. We just need him back this very instant,” the woman gushed with clearly put-on theatrics. Whatever this couple thought they were pulling wouldn’t work on a dog, much less Lucy. 

“There are two issues with that statement,” she explained. “First, your son is being treated and thus cannot be released at this time. This is not negotiable,” she added when that wretched fish of a woman opened her mouth. “Second, your son was found huddled in an alley covered with dirt and refuse. Hardly the place for a child, if I were to ask anyone respectable. Would you care to explain to me how he got there?”

The two exchanged open-mouthed looks before the man slammed his fist against the table again and yelled. “This is blasphemy! To accuse us, his loving parents, of leaving him out in the cold! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“Actually, I wasn’t accusing you of anything, but if you insist, now I must,” Lucy said calmly. “Our exam found many wounds that could not have been caused by the roughhousing of a four year old, thus suggesting either you beat him, or you allow him to enter unsafe conditions with little regard for his safety.”

“How would you be able to know--” Mr. Davies interrupted, but Lucy kept speaking.

“Furthermore, we are very concerned with his lack of physical development as he is very small, thus suggesting he has not had access to sufficient food.”

“Are you honestly suggesting we starve--” Mrs. Davies said, but Lucy was on the very last shred of her sanity. 

“And furthermore,” she raised her voice, “his verbal and emotional development is very stunted, thus suggesting a lack of social interaction with anyone who views him as a human boy. So, what do you have to say for yourselves and why are you here, truly?”

“May we see our son?” Mr. Davies growled.

“No. You may not. He is highly infectious and will need to be cared for in isolation,” Lucy lied. 

“How shall we ever pay for his treatment?” Mrs. Davies swooned. “Without him helping with the bar, we will never be able to afford such an expense.”

“I am more than willing to provide for his care,” Lucy explained. 

Mrs. Davies reached across the table and grasped the side of her face. “Oh, you darling! You doll! How could we ever repay you? It just breaks out hearts that poor little Lemuel should be left all alone in such a dreadful environment.”

“Allow me to become his guardian. At least then he may be saved from such horrors as the likes of you,” Lucy snapped. “No other penality should come to you, if you let me take him.”

“Nurse Westenra!” Mr. Davies gasped. “We could never sell out darling son.” He grabbed his wife’s arm in a show of something. Lucy couldn’t even tell what emotion they were going for anymore. 

“I am not suggesting…” Then Lucy caught the look in his eye. “How much?” she asked. 

“Are you truly in the market for the buying and selling of children, Nurse Westenra?” he asked like a snake. 

“No, but I am in the market for driving their terrible parents away by any means necessary. If it is gold, then it is gold,” Lucy growled. “How much?”

“We could never put a price on our dear, sweet Lemuel--” Mrs. Davies tried to say. 

“I’m sure you could put a price on the work he does at the bar,” she hissed.

“We could never--”

“Fifteen guineas,” the man said, looking quite pleased with himself. “Fifteen guineas and you can deal with that little brat for the rest of his miserable life.”

“Of course.” Lucy counted the coins onto the table. Both of those wicked people caught the glow of gold in their eyes. She pushed the pile to them. “Now get out,” she snapped and they scurried away like the rats they were. 

Lucy took exactly one minute to collect herself and consider the consequences on the loss of almost a third of her salary, but she found she couldn’t care. She promised she would return to Aubrey, so return she must. 

Aubrey, however, was not in his room and the anxiety that blossomed in her chest was noticeable to everyone who saw her. She ran around the entire ward calling his name and asking after him, but to no avail. Finally, she ran to Dr. Van Helsing’s lab and threw open the door without knocking.

“Have you seen Aubrey?” She panted as she leaned on the doorframe to catch her breath. “I can’t find him. I’ve searched everywhere and I cannot find him.” Her voice pitched mildly into panic. 

Dr. Van Helsing calmly walked to her side. “I found him playing outside the tuberculosis ward and I sent him home with Nurse Murray,” he said in an attempt to ease her stress. 

“The tuberculosis ward?” Lucy yelped. “I should have--” she held her face in her hands. “I should have let Mr. Dracula watch him.”

“I thought you were fond of him now,” he said, something strange creeping into the edge of his voice. 

“I am most certainly not,” Lucy snapped her head up. “He is an abysmal man, but it would have been better than Aubrey getting infected if he isn’t already.”

“He will be alright,” Dr. Van Helsing soothed. “I’m very surprised you weren’t with him.”

“I was dealing with his parents,” Lucy sighed. “I didn’t want to subject him to that again so I sent him back to his room. Clearly, he never found his way there.” The gnawing guilt of her own incompetence was eating her alive. 

“And?” Dr. Van Helsing asked, pushing for details. 

“And they’re the worst people I’ve ever met.” She took a deep breath, “But he’s safe now, and that is truly all that matters.”

“How did you manage to ensure that?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I threatened them and then paid them fifteen guineas to make up for their lost labor at their bar.” The words sat like bile in her throat. Dr. Van Helsing’s expression hardened, but he said nothing more. “I must return to my rounds,” Lucy said before quickly exiting the room. 

It took eons for the day to pass. She wanted nothing more than to return home and catch both Aubrey and Mina in her arms and hold them tight, but she had to wait. Finally, she was able to give Dr. Seward a debriefing on what had occurred that morning and she all but ran back to the ivy cottage. 

Much to her great delight. Dr. Van Helsing, Mina, and Jonathan were sitting around a fantastic diorama of the English countryside made out of yarn and cloth. While Aubrey was enraptured with explaining to the assembled crowd the intricacies of his rail system, Lucy was able to sneak into Mina’s room and get ready for her meeting with Mr. Dracula. She chose to wear a sweet, pink dress with room to carry her knife and a glass vial. 

“Lucy!” Aubrey said as he caught her out of the corner of his eye. He ran over to her and excitedly pulled her over to his creation. She sat on the ground next to Dr. Van Helsing and he settled himself in her lap. He pointed to two thimbles along a blue piece of yarn. “That’s Whitby and London.”

Lucy held him gently against her chest and she could feel his tiny heartbeat against her palms. “They are lovely,” she said. “You are certainly the best city architect I have ever seen.”

“Mina helped,” he said as he rolled his train along one of the tracks. Lucy had hardly seen his so happy and content. She beamed at her friend and then at Dr. Van Helsing. 

She considered for a moment that she did not have to go to Mr. Dracula. She could, in all fairness, leave him to his machinations and stay here with her child and her friends and enjoy a sweet night basking in their love. It could have been easy to forget that she had a task that she must accomplish though they would all be safer for it. 

Lucy stood while Aubrey was showing a pincushion mountain to Jonathan. “Goodbye,” she called. “I’ll return soon.”

Aubrey looked over at her and ran to hug her legs. She crouched down to give him a proper hug and he allowed her to leave. Lucy scarcely had been more proud in her entire life. 

The walk to the Murrain was short and Lucy made it quickly, hoping to beat Mr. Dracula, but she had no such luck. 

“Welcome,” Mr. Dracula said, gesturing to the wine as Lucy sat across from him. “May I say, you look positively ravishing.”

Lucy dedicated pulled her loose hair over one shoulder and smiled lightly at him. “You certainly look very nice yourself. How is Whitby treating you, Vlad?” She allowed his name to settle on her tounge like marzipan. 

“I find it very agreeable,” he said after a sip of wine. “It is not just the patients that benefit from the breeze off the sea. Tell me, Lucy, have you ever been down to the beach? It is the most enchanting thing about this small town. Besides you, of course.”

“I have,” Lucy said, ignoring his last comment and the wine. Her mind wandered for a moment to the last time she had taken a stroll on the beach with Mina. Her dark hair had caught all the colors of the sunset, but Lucy couldn’t allow herself to dwell on the joys of the past. “I imagine it must be an exciting change of pace from your homeland.”

“Yes,” he waved his hand noncommitandly. “Drab forests and bleak castles have never been very up my alley.”

“I do prefer it to the hustle and bustle of London, myself,” Lucy agreed as she took a sniff of the wine. “So how are Dr. Van Helsing’s lessons treating you? He is the most wonderful of mentors, if I do say so myself.”

“He has taught me many fascinating things that Dr. Seward neglects.”

“And is that all you desire from him?” Lucy asked, honing in on her first mission. 

“What else could I possibly desire from the dear doctor?” Mr. Dracula asked with a small laugh. “He has given me hope for medicine and for my future. He is a good man, and one you should intend on keeping around.”

“I meant mean, what do you desire from him as a man.” Lucy took a tentative sip of her wine before gently placing her knife on the edge of the table. Mr. Dracula looked at it and then back to her with the most curious expression spread across his face. 

“It seems as though you are very protective of him,” he said jovially. 

“And yet you still avoid my question,” Lucy raised a challenging eyebrow. “You must understand he is very dear to me and should any harm come to him…” she trailed away and allowed the glint of the knife to do the talking. 

“I think you’ll find you couldn’t kill me even if you tried.” Lucy wanted to climb over the table and smack the smirk off his face, but she was able to keep control of herself. “But if you must know, I wish to make him my dear friend.”

“A dear friend and nothing more?”

“What is it that you’re wishing to imply, Lucy?” Mr. Dracula’s voice seemed genuinely worried and for a moment, she felt bad that she was pushing so far into this man’s personal life. Then, however, she remembered that he was literally a bloodsucking monster and she felt less wretched. 

“Dr. Van Helsing does not keep secrets from me. I know where you went on your little...escapade.” Lucy was finished with playing this specific game. 

“Then you do truly know of his proclivities,” Mr. Dracula said seriously. 

Lucy had to laugh out loud. “My dear, I don’t think our sweet Abraham knows of his own ‘proclivities’ as you say. I fear, outside the world of medicine, he is rather dense and not one to look for any hidden meanings.”

“But he said people knew what he is,” Mr. Dracula sputtered, his arrogant charm thoroughly put out. Lucy would be lying if she said she weren’t a little proud. 

“He is a doctor. That is the essence of everything that he is.” Lucy shrugged. “That does beg the question, though. If you desire him in such a way, then why are you here with me? I happen to know Dr. Van Helsing is free tonight and I would have been more than happy to watch our dear Aubrey.”

“He lacks your good looks and gentle charms.” Mr. Dracula settled back into his place of ease and a lazy smile drifted across his face. “He may be alluring, but you are positively enchanting.”

“Oh? And how have you come to that astute conclusion?” Lucy asked as she took another sip of her wine and drew her handkerchief across her lips. Mr. Dracula laughed lightly in understanding. 

“I have scarcely seen someone with eyes that glow so like the stars. If I were not a man of science, I would have thought your face to be sculpted in the very image of Diana, such fine moonbeams are you hair,” Mr. Dracula said as he lowered his voice to a sultry growl. 

Lucy turned away and willed a blush to her cheeks. “Oh Vlad, you flatter me too much.”

“Nonsense,” he said as he took her hand gently in his own. “There is no such thing as too much flattery for a creature of your beauty and grace. I must say, I am a well educated man, and your mere presence makes me think that the old Greeks may have been right in their assumption that beauty equals virtue.”

“If I remember my classics correctly, that was a sentiment saved only for men,” Lucy said as she pretended to look the very picture of a proper Victorian lady being scandalized by the touch of an errant man. 

“But we do not live in ancient Athens. So, I say you’re beauty inspires virtue.”

Lucy turned her head away, exposing the graceful curve of her throat as Mr. Dracula pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers. As fun as it was being woefully underestimated by her male peers, Lucy had a job to do and she was getting tired. She also promised to return home to Mina by nine, so her time was running short. 

With a pointed look and a smirk, she turned to leave the building, throwing her handkerchief over her left shoulder as she went. Mr. Dracula wasted no time catching her message and soon they were alone together in an alleyway. 

“Oh my, this is quite improper,” Lucy said as she pressed her back into the cool stone. 

Mr. Dracula brushed a curl of hair from Lucy’s cheek and his freezing fingers traced gently over the curve of her jaw. “I took you for beautiful and virtuous but never proper,” he hummed before he kissed her. 

Even his lips were cold, so Lucy couldn’t even imagine it was Mina kissing her instead. His hands wound round her torso and pulled them flush together. There wasn’t a single part of him that was warm. She wrapped her fingers around the glass vial and prepared to strike. While she may be a viper, she was going to milk this Mr. Dracula like a snake.

He pulled away and allowed Lucy to catch her breath. She could have sworn that his eyes took on a brighter hint of blood red. As his hand worked lower down her back, Mr. Dracula leaned in to kiss the tender spot on the crook of her neck. 

Before he made contact with her skin, Lucy shoved the glass vial, and by extension most of her hand, into his open mouth. She could feel his stomach and diaphragm contract as he gagged around her. Lucy desperately hoped that this would work, because she would rather perish than have to do this again. 

As she pulled the vial out, Mr. Dracula doubled over and she was left with two parallel cuts running down the back of her hand. He kneeled on the ground, clutching his throat as drool dripped off his chin. If Lucy hadn’t known his malicious intent towards those he loved, she would have felt bad for his displeasure. In any case, the vial was filled with his saliva. 

“Why are your teeth like razors?” She asked as she clutched her bleeding hand to her chest.

“Why did you shove your hand into my mouth?” Mr. Dracula responded, looking thoroughly violated. 

“Answer my question, Count,” she hissed as she backed out of the alley. Mr. Dracula looked almost like a rabid dog, crouched in the darkness with his black hair strewn across his face. 

“You hedge-prowler!” He yelled as he staggered to his feet. “You cunning little vixen!”

“Now you understand the idea,” Lucy said as she disappeared into the night, for as confident as she was that she could match wits with Mr. Dracula any day, she was not sure how she would fair in a physical altercation. 

She managed to wrap her hand in her handkerchief to manage most of the bleeding, though she could tell it wasn’t a solution that would last for very long. By the time she returned to Mina’s ivy cottage, she had bled through most of the layers and needed to consider getting it properly bandaged. 

As she quietly reentered the house, she was greeted with the darling sight of Dr. Van Helsing sleeping on the couch with Aubrey cuddled against his chest. She tiptoed over to them and pressed a soft kiss to the child’s curls before she retreated to Mina’s room. Despite her unpleasant encounter with Mr. Dracula, merely stepping back into this house filled her chest with love and longing. 

“Mina?” she whispered as she knocked on the door. “It’s Lucy. I have harvested the spit.”

Mina opened the door and immediately enveloped Lucy in a cozy, loving embrace. She sank into the warmth of Mina’s touch and she could kiss her to chase away the taste of Mr. Dracula on her lips. 

“And I have returned home before nine, just as you have requested.” Lucy actually took a look at the clock on the wall, which read 9:12. “More or less.”

Mina said nothing and smiled at her as she rested her hands lightly on Lucy’s shoulders. Her facial expression twisted when she saw the bloody cloth wrapped around her hand. 

“What happened?” Mina asked as she quickly pulled Lucy into the room. 

“I may have come in contact with his teeth.” Lucy blushed with embarrassment. “Though it may be a good thing and we won’t even need to test the saliva because my blood is not clotting at the rate it is supposed to.”

  
  



	7. Chapter VII: Saturday, 04/01/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham makes excuses. Mina raids a bookstore. Lucy is a beach bum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with us and to all of you getting ready for finals/to travel for the holidays, we wish you the best of luck!

Saturday was their day off, since Dr. Seward and Abraham both agreed that it would be best to stagger their off days such that the hospital was never without a physician during these frightening times. Ordinarily, idle time was utter torture, but Abraham was content enough with plans to play with Aubrey and perhaps walk into town with Mr. Dracula for tea or along the beach. 

These plans were somewhat thwarted when he woke to find sweet little Aubrey shivering and sweating in his arms, gripped by a harsh fever. Gingerly, Abraham lifted him up and lay him properly on the couch, bundling him tightly in the blanket. “Mr. Aubrey, can you hear me?” He asked quietly, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at the boy’s brow. His brown eyes fluttered and opened quickly. 

Aubrey twisted slightly in the blanket and let out a whining cry of discomfort. “Doctor!” Aubrey wailed as a baby might for his mother. 

“Shh,” Abraham cooed, stroking Aubrey’s fever-damp hair out of his face. “I’m right here. Let’s not wake the whole house?” 

“I’m cold and hot,” Aubrey sniffled, though his wailing ceased. Abraham sat beside him on the sofa, letting the boy rest his head against his lap. 

“That’s a fever, sweet boy,” Abraham said gently. “But fevers are not necessarily a cause for such distress.” 

“Hurts,” Aubrey whimpered. 

“Where does it hurt?” Abraham asked patiently. 

“Tummy,” Aubrey said with another sniff. Abraham touched a hand lightly to his stomach. 

“Here?” Abraham asked. Aubrey shook his head, and he moved his hand closer to his navel. “Lower?” Another head shake, so he touched his chest. “Does your chest hurt?” 

“Chest hurt,” Aubrey repeated back with a nod. As if on cue, he broke into a hacking cough. 

“When did you get a cough?” Abraham asked, training the worry from his voice. Sure, he had heard him cough a bit over the last couple days, and he had a mild fever, but nothing so intense as this. It was actually a good sign; tuberculosis rarely set in fast. 

“I don’t know,” Aubrey said sadly, tears filling his eyes again. Abraham kept petting his curls, hoping to stave off another crying fit. 

“Was it near the day Nurse Westenra found you?” Abraham asked. Aubrey nodded, and he couldn’t help but feel relieved. 

“Father doesn’t like noise,” Aubrey said, hardly more than a whisper. 

“Did he make you go outside?” Abraham asked, a sharp protectiveness setting in as Aubrey gave him a nod. “That’s no good,” Abraham said quietly. 

“No outside?” Aubrey’s huge brown eyes settled on his own, thoroughly breaking Abraham’s heart. He scooped the boy into his arms and cradled him like a baby. 

“Never,” Abraham said, kissing his forehead. “All you have is a pneumonia, and we’ll get you patched up in no time.” He wanted to go to his medical kit and prepare him some willow bark extract, but the boy seemed rather intent on clinging. “Mr. Aubrey, may I get up to prepare you a dose of medicine?” He asked politely. Aubrey shook his head. 

“Don’t go,” Aubrey said, balling up Abraham’s shirt in his small fist. Abraham sighed. 

“Very well,” Abraham said, only relenting because if Aubrey was well enough to protest, he was well enough not to be in dire need of remedy. “Do you fancy going back to sleep? We have perhaps another couple hours before the sun properly rises.” 

Aubrey nodded, and Abraham shifted back onto the couch such that he could lie down as well, keeping the boy close to his body in the hopes that the warmth might bring him some measure of comfort or, at the very least, reassurance. 

It was well into the morning by the time Nurse Westenra woke him, blatant worry filling her gray eyes. “Is he alright?” She asked without pretense. 

“He woke with a fever,” Abraham said, looking at the flush-faced toddler beside him. He was still sleeping, though he was burning to the touch and shivered occasionally. “He has a touch of pneumonia, I believe. The symptoms came on too fast for tuberculosis.” 

“Has he had any medicine?” Lucy asked, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Abraham frowned as he saw that her hand was bandaged. 

“He refused…” he said distractedly. “What happened to your hand?” 

“Oh,” Lucy looked at it with a mix of pride and distaste. “I fear I had a run in with Mr. Dracula’s teeth last night whilst attempting to procure a sample of his spit.” 

“Why on earth would you be doing that?” Abraham gawked. 

“Because!” Lucy said excitedly, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I believe I may have found the identity of our prodigal giant leech.” 

“You can’t be referring to Mr. Dracula,” Abraham said weakly, shaking his head. 

“Oh, but I am,” Lucy smiled. “His teeth were sharp as razors, and even the shallow scratch I received bled for nearly three hours. In fact, I feel a touch light-headed.” 

“Lucy, this is impossible,” Abraham said, dumbfounded. “Such anomalies don’t exist, and if they did, Mr. Dracula wouldn’t be one of them.” 

“And why is that?” Lucy challenged. In such times it was impossible to regard her solely as his nurse. “The data makes sense!”

“Mr. Dracula is kind, and charming. A genuinely endearing man, and surely nothing inhuman,” Abraham said defensively Lucy raised an elegant brow at him, causing him to blush slightly. 

“Perhaps he is as such in order to lure us in,” Lucy stressed. 

“Perhaps he is just a man,” Abraham muttered. “If--if you are truly set to prove his...vampirism, then I propose we do so scientifically.” 

“Is there a medical test for it?” Lucy asked with an amused grin. Abraham sulked slightly. 

“...Not to my knowledge,” he admitted. “But I don’t want us to jump to conclusions. Especially when such conclusions are, well...fictive.” 

“It’s not fiction if it’s real!” Lucy protested, causing Aubrey to stir and nuzzle into his side, gripping Abraham’s shirt even tighter. 

“It may be real,” Abraham sighed. “But it’s such a strong accusation, and Mr. Dracula has been nothing but kind to us since we’ve arrived. Surely a blood-drinking creature of the undead would not be as such.” 

“Abraham,” Lucy groaned. “He has extra teeth, specialized for cutting and puncturing flesh, as well as anticoagulant saliva!” 

“Shh,” Abraham interjected. “Please don’t wake Aubrey. He’s had rather a rough night.” 

“Alright,” Lucy said, dropping her voice back down to a whisper. “All signs point to Mr. Dracula as being the culprit. We must do something!”

“He’s to be my new student,” Abraham said miserably. “And he has so much potential! Surely we can go about this in a manner that won’t disrupt his studies? He would be staying with me in London, so I would be able to keep an eye on him.” 

“He isn’t some boy or young man that can be easily chaperoned,” Lucy urged. “He could quite possibly be older than you, possibly by centuries!”

Abraham rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “I will need to do research. Into vampirism. I’m sure there are harmless ways to protect ourselves and Mr. Dracula without disrupting the course of all of our lives.”

“Do you have many books on vampirism?” Lucy asked, tilting her head. Abraham sighed.

“I do not, and at present I am engaged as a surrogate mother to a rather unwell boy,” Abraham said firmly. “Perhaps you or Nurse Murray could run to the bookstore and see if there is an almanac or an encyclopedia of sorts.” 

“I am not your maid,” Lucy said with put-on haughtiness. 

“Would you have me disrupt Aubrey?” Abraham asked with a tired smile. He watched as her resolve broke. 

“...Fine. Though I am doing this for him, and I will ask for you to pay for the book,” she said sternly. Abraham nodded. 

“My wallet is in my jacket pocket by the door,” Abraham said contentedly. In all truth, he wasn’t quite feeling well either. Too many late nights. It seemed the odd hours were impacting him harder on this trip than they ever had before, and he supposed it wasn’t impossible the chilly air was giving him a cold. 

* * *

“A book on vampirism?” Mina whispered doubtfully as Lucy waltzed ahead. With her head held high, the miraculously bright sun painted her the very image of Diana on the hunt; a goddess in all but name. Mina snapped her eyes away and commanded herself to walk beside Lucy so as to place her ethereal beauty in one corner of the eye. However, the closer proximity beat holes into her heart as Lucy’s hand brushed against hers and the faint whispers of her perfume reached Mina’s nose. 

“Shouldn’t there be such a thing?” Lucy asked boldly, unbothered by prying ears as always. Her thoughtless rick taking was as much her strength as her downfall, as it was indeed for Mina too. Not for the first time since that morning, Mina’s gaze drifted to the cut across her dear friend’s hand. Not just a cut, though. A bite. A viscous tearing of luminescent skin, a wound which bled for hours without end. Like the poor souls in St. Mary’s ward, her mind supplied wretched misgivings without intention. How Mina longed to confine Lucy to her home; to steal her away from this horrid nightmare of a quaint seaside paradise; to bring Dracula down and flay him toe to navel for his assault on both Lucy’s character and her physicality. 

“Mina?” Lucy asked once more. Her expression was one of uncertain concern, a pinching of the brow which graced her pretty features more often than not since she had arrived to Whitby. Mina’s soul ached in keen sympathy for the predicament both friends had found themselves within and, despite the danger of the action to her own heart, she took Lucy’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. 

“I’m well.” Mina assured her. “Too many thoughts crowding about my brain.” She relinquished Lucy’s hand, contented to distract herself with the slender hustle and bustle which populated the small town’s main street. 

“There should be books, yes.” Mina said while she took lead of Lucy. “But I shouldn’t think there would be textbooks or manuals as your dear doctor seems to believe. Rather, we may be working from penny dreadful and tales of  _ Varney the Vampire _ .”

“Perhaps.” Lucy agreed. “But even popular horror is an improvement on our current position of ignorance.” She paused before the bookstore.

“I suppose.” Something was better than nothing, even if of dubious origin. Still, Mina wished she could press Johnathan for details of his detention. She was sure that he should know more if only it could be unburied from the plaster of pale and gory trauma coating his mind. His coherency had much improved since Helsing had treated his brain fever but even now he lacked the strength or security needed to convince any other than himself that his words weren’t crazed ramblings. If she had been a harsher woman, she would have forced his speech, if only to spare her sweet Lucy the same dreaded fate, but she stayed her tongue in the presence of the battered man.

Mina held the door for Lucy as she strode into the bookshop. With fiendish charm, Lucy bewitched the bookseller, allowing them to pass into the section of mythology and horror without a backwards glance and both women immediately set to work searching for any mention of vampirism hidden among the crisp pages of folklore and the weathered tatters of aged pence-apiece terrors. The bolts of giddy glee which came to Mina at being left to her own devices within the most unladylike section of the bookshop, however, slowly dribbled to nothing as turn after turn after turn of the page yielded not one mention of vampires or any of their kin. They found evidence of different aspects, of bloodletting monsters and men driven mad by whisperings at the windowsill and seductress women in white gowns but nothing which composed the pale skin, wet-rusted eyes, and double fangs of Mr. Dracula. So they continued on for an hour or so in silence.

“Perhaps,” Lucy eventually said, voice washed of enthusiasm or commitment, “he is a shark.”

“Sharks don’t have twin sets of teeth, rather they have five.” Mina corrected with equal monotone. She was barely resisting the urge to toss the book in her hands across the store.

“Maybe…he is a degenerate shark.”

“Maybe we should go to Transylvania and ask around ourselves.” Mina grumbled. 

Lucy hummed as she shelved yet another useless volume. “A trip I would love to accompany you on. However, I fear we are previously engaged. There’s only so much time to be spared before Dr. Van Helsing is once more summoned to London.”

“Ah. Of course.” Mina said. Her shoulders slumped against her will as she was suddenly faced an immediate future in which Lucy would no longer be her treasured companion. It was silly though, Mina chided herself strictly as she yanked another book from its holding. Naturally Lucy would be returning to London and naturally that would mean Mina would be left behind in Whitby. Still, her heart convulsed at the prospect. Perhaps it was the appearance of young Aubrey, the child Lucy and Helsing adored as their own, or perhaps it was Johnathan’s frantic instance at a marriage she had already made herself begin to arrange or perhaps it was the devotion with which she and Lucy had lived the last week, sharing bed and breakfast and long talks under the moonlight. It was so horribly domestic, waking in the morning to a familiar face and strolling to town for errands and playing games with a child; it was simple and settled in a way Mina had always craved yet never truly wanted. Not until there was Lucy.

So that’s where it ended. Even if there was doubt before, there could be none now. The passionate feelings Mina had harbored for Lucy throughout school had not only lingered but indeed grown into something monstrous and demanding. She was nearly tempted to lay her desires bare and put herself up to judgement before Lucy, whatever the consequences may be. Stupidity for the sake of love and all. 

Yet, it was neither time nor place and besides, Mina was about to commit to life with Johnathan. Even if she were to take a lover of the fairer sex, there was a level of social normality which would have to be further maintained in order to protect both she and her damaged companion. Visible deviance, on either her or Johnathan’s parts, would have disastrous effects and Mina didn’t fancy spending the remainder of her days confined to the empty cell beside Renfield’s or worse, being made to lie with Johnathan so as to ensure their mutual attraction.

Oh, but how Mina wanted Lucy; to stay with her, to form a life, to lie in her bed, not in the way sisters might, but, intimately. Lucy, her moonbeam hair spread across the pillow, rosy cheeks stained scarlet, mouth parted in small gasps as Mina settled between her spread legs and pressed kisses to the inner lacings of her thighs. How Mina wanted to rise in the morning, slowly, lazily, and walk to the sea arm in arm and without fear, with Aubrey running before them, sun kissed and smiling as all young boys should be. Lucy could wear her darling red dress, the one with delicate flowering around the collar and Mina would dress as men do so as to make evident that the woman beside her was not a cousin or childhood companion but her most treasured wife. 

“Thus I am reduced to a daydreaming child by the brush of the hand.” Mina muttered bitterly as she watched Lucy round the corner, following the trail of books to hopefully more fruitful sources. “And no one to blame for it but myself.”

On a whim and in need of a proper distraction, Mina sought out the serialized tales of  _ Varney,  _ hidden within the mound of popular fiction.She rested the pamphlet against the shelf and flipped to a chapter at random.

_ “You awaken, doctor,” said Henry, “all my interest.” _

_ “And mine, too,” remarked the admiral. “What can it be all about? And where, doctor, did you first see this Varney the vampire?” _

_ “In his coffin.” _

_ Both admiral and Henry gave starts of surprise as, with one accord, they exclaimed- _

_ “Did you say coffin?” _

_ “Yes: I tell you, on my word of honour, that the first time in my life I ever saw Sir Francis Varney, was in his coffin.” _

_ “Then he is a vampire, and there can be no mistake,” said the admiral. _

_ _

_ _ Mina frowned and gingerly drew the penny dreadful into both hands. “Lucy,” she called while her heart quickened up in anticipation, “read this.”

Lucy was at her side in an instant, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder as she peered at the book. “What is it?” She asked after a moment’s study.

“A horror story.” Mina said. She paged through the book rapidly, eyes glazing over the melted words. “But that is not why I’m drawing attention to it. Look here,” she pointed to another chapter of the tale in which an eye witness to Varney’s ‘death’ was called forward to speak, “I believe we are going about this the wrong way. There appears to be little to no media on vampires but we may not need it considering we have thus far acquired much of our own.”

“How do you mean?” Lucy asked.

“Our combined observations, Johnathan’s letters, Seward’s notes--”

“Dr. Seward?” Lucy’s voice turned distasteful.

“Yes, Seward.” Mina admitted. “Despite his…odd practices, he has kept careful observation of Renfield’s emergent behavior, which we have suspected and I’d go so far as to say have confirmed to be connected to Dracula’s influence. Then there’s Dracula’s employement files, the paperwork Johnathan made within his work as a solicitor, newspaper articles from Whitby, interviews from the anemic patients. If our intention is to make a manual on vampires, we have the tools to do so. Do you think it would be enough to convince your dear doctor?”

Lucy paused, still examining the page before her. “I don’t know.” She said slowly. “It would be worth an examination, at the very least. All we truly need is enough to convince Dr. Van Helsing that he should bear witness to a test of my blood. Then I can sway him to combine in our forces against this fiend.”

“And indeed a fiend he is.” Mina reflect darkly as she eyed Lucy’s hand. She straightened her spine and cleared her throat. “Then that’s our plan. We’ll purchase what little we can find from here and then I’ll work to assemble a more comprehensive guide to our collective knowledge. The accumulated work should be more than enough to make our case and draw conclusions on our mysterious visitor. That way, all in our party are knowledgeable to the dangers prior to your departure with Dracula to London.”

With such in mind, they purchased the serialization of  _ Varney  _ as well as those select few books on European folklore which made note of blood suckers or men without reflections. While they walked the long path home, Mina offered no mention of the immediacy needed for their task. Though selfish in thought and practice, she had no wish to send Lucy away too soon.

* * *

Perhaps their devastating failure at the bookstore should have sent Lucy into a mildly depressed stupor, but regardless, it did mean that she had Mina far from her dear fiancé. The scenic path home sent them almost to the shoreline and she had a fiendish idea. It was, however, an idea that would fill them with no small amount of joy, but Lucy supposed she should feel guilty anyway. A proper friend wouldn’t pull Mina away from caring for her fiancé, and yet here she was, a wretched leech as ever. Lucy shook the absurd thought from her head as Mina looked at her quizzically. 

“What is the matter with you?” Mina asked with a darling laugh. 

“I just had the most wicked idea,” Lucy said as she linked their arms together. “It is a beautiful Saturday, after all. Why don’t we take our dear Aubrey to the beach and leave Dr. Van Helsing to tend to Jonathan without distraction.” She closed her eyes for a moment as she allowed her words to settle around her. There was no way in heaven or earth Mina would agree to such an arrangement. Hell, Lucy would be lucky if Mina didn’t think she had completely lost her mind. Yet, a stroll on the beach with a child and her beloved friend. There could be nothing more dear to Lucy in the entire world. Even if Mina could resist the charms of both Lucy and Aubrey, she could never reject the call of the sea. 

“I...oh…I mean....” Mina stammered as Lucy’s heart sank. Perhaps her hypothesis had been incorrect and she truly was deeply and desperately in love with Jonathan Harker. The thought made Lucy long to hide herself in some dark and shadowy forest where no man could ever find her. 

Lucy was a selfish beast. The worst thought shot through her mind as swift and anxious as hummingbirds’ wingbeats. It would take six words for her to completely change everything. The press of her lips could rewrite their entire futures. The dreary fog of London could dissolve into the bright blush of seafoam breaking upon the Whitby shore; a blush that could bloom across Mina’s cheeks as she cradled her in her arms. 

“That sounds delightful, Lucy,” Mina said with the faintest break of a smile. “We might as well take our fleeting bits of happiness before we must draft our monster manual.” She held Lucy’s hand as they walked towards the house. Her skin was warm and soft against the coolness of the April day. For once, the sky was bright, blue, and free of clouds. 

Through the gentle haze of the scent of honeysuckle, Lucy found herself greeted by the most darling sight. Dr. Van Helsing and little Aubrey were sitting cross legged on the floor with Mina’s tea set placed in between them. They were dressed the same, with white shirts and suspenders. The smell of something faintly burning brought a look of concern to her Mina’s face. 

“Lucy!” Aubrey said as he wrapped his arms around Lucy’s knees. “Helsing made cake.”

What Dr. Van Helsing had truly made was charcoal in the vague shape of a cake, but she smiled nonetheless. “Indeed, he did make a very lovely cake.” Lucy agreed as Mina giggled behind her and left to speak to her dear Jonathan. “And what does the dear doctor think of the cake?”

“I think I am quite the wretched baker,” Dr. Van Helsing agreed with a sheepish smile. “Though I must say that our dear Aubrey has taken no small amount of delight with his education in the realm of proper English etiquette.”

“That’s curious,” Lucy said with a roguish grin. “Who could be teaching him? Because I know for certain that you do not have a proper education on those subjects either.”

“Lucy,” Dr. Van Helsing chided. “I am the very model of sophisticated politeness.” 

“I think you are more the model of a brilliant, yet eccentric, doctor.” She sat next to him and Aubrey snuggled himself into her lap. “I was thinking that Mina and I could take him to the beach so you may have some alone time with Jonathan. We can discuss the issues of  _ you know what  _ later.”

Dr. Van Helsing frowned slightly, but nodded nonetheless. “I think that would be a marvelous idea. The fresh air will be good for his cough, I think. Have you ever been to the beach before?” he asked, turning to the child. 

He said nothing but shook his head vigorously. “You will like it, I’m sure,” Lucy smiled. “It is fun to play in the waves and catch hermit crabs.” 

Aubrey furrowed his brow and tested out the words on his tongue. “Hermit crab?”

“They are darling little creatures that carry their homes on their backs. Though, sometimes they eat too much and get too big and they have to leave their home to find another,” Lucy explained. 

“Like brother,” Aubrey said, much to Lucy’s discomfort. She exchanged a quick look with Dr. Van Helsing and decided not to push the issue any further. Mina emerged from her room with a wicker basket and a blanket draped over her arm. 

“We would be delighted if you came with us, Master Aubrey,” Mina said, her voice filling the room like fairy chimes. “It is proper for a boy your age to have many wonderful adventures.” 

The child nodded and raised his arms so Lucy could carry him out of the house and into the fragrant air of nature. Mina walked close by her elbow, occasionally bumping into her. How Lucy longed to hold her hand and rest her head upon her shoulder, but she would have to be content with the faint brushes of closeness; now and for forever. 

As they caught their first glimpse of the shoreline, Mina ran ahead of them and she was haloed by the golden light of the sun. The only thing brighter was her smile as she turned to face the sea. She stood perched atop a flat stone, smoothed by the endless wash of the waves. The salted wind whipped her hair from her face, and for a moment, her dear Mina looked like the very picture of Mary Anning’s revenge. 

Aubrey tugged at Lucy’s arm and begged to be taken towards the water. The wind was gentle and the sky was clear, so the waves did little more than lap at the stones and sand. Having taken a moment to divest Aubrey and herself of their shoes and socks, Lucy tied up her skirt and took his hand as they went wading. After Mina set up their treats, she joined them in the freezing water. It wasn’t yet warm enough to encourage Aubrey to properly swim, but he seemed to take great delight in his changing reflection. Mina pointed out different species of algae and fish that Lucy could never hope to remember and Aubrey giggled as they brushed against his legs and feet.

“They’re squishy!” he said as he gripped Lucy’s hand. “Why do they eat me?” A bright smile was spread across his face, so Lucy knew not to be alarmed. 

“Because you are the sweetest boy they’ve ever met,” Lucy explained as Mina covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. 

“Hello Mr. Minnow. I am Aubrey,” he directed at one of the flashing, silver fish. The fish, unsurprisingly, did not respond, which seemed to make Aubrey very sad. 

After the trio became a bit too chilled to stay in the water, they returned to Mina’s blanket and ate their snack of apples and honey. The soft flush of birdsong rang over their heads as Aubrey lay in Lucy’s lap; the gentle pull of sleep tugging at his eyes. 

“I think some of the nightingales have returned,” Mina whispered as she set her eyes on the trees. 

“Already?” Lucy asked. She knew from many conversations with her beloved friend that the birds migrated north from Africa and usually arrived in England in mid-April. 

“Already,” she confirmed as she laid her head on Lucy’s shoulder. “It seems as though spring might come early.”

Lucy closed her eyes in idyllic bliss. Could there be anything greater than lying close with her beloved friend and child, listening to the swell of bird call and the rolling thrum of the ocean? 

Lucy was pulled from her state of half-rest by rustling in the bushes behind them. She gently shook Mina’s shoulder and gathered the half-asleep Aubrey into her arms as she stood. From the bushes crawled a large, mangy dog with red eyes. Lucy bolted up, startling her dear child into tears, and ran several meters down the beach. The dog was quickly at her heels and bit the back on her leg before Lucy was able to kick it away. 

Mina quickly jumped to her defense and warded the snarling dog away with a piece of driftwood. After a few failed attempts at snapping his jaws around the brittle wood, he retreated back into the brush. Everything was silent save for Aubrey’s miserable wailing and the slow drip of Lucy’s blood on the stone. She tried to calm him as Mina crept near the edge of the brush. 

“Mina?” she called, worried that she would fall victim to the beast’s teeth. “Have you known many dogs to have blood red eyes?”

“I have not,” she replied solemnly. 


	8. Monday, 04/03/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham gets back to work. Mina reads a diary. Lucy interrogates a fiancé.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update, we've been traveling for winter break, but we're back now! Comments and kudos are always appreciated and every bit of feedback helps!

Abraham was still not fully recovered from the fright of seeing the state in which the nurses and Aubrey returned to the house. It was nearly enough convince him to urge Seward into allowing him a second day off. Almost. Aubrey certainly hadn’t let him get much sleep the past two nights, what with insisting that he stay in the cottage with all of them _and _that he sleep on the couch with him. All of it made for a rather unfavorable sleeping condition, which served only to exasperate his existing cold.

Sunday had been a quiet day at the hospital. No new cases, very little sign of Mr. Dracula. All Abraham had to do was make all of the rounds in both the psychiatric and tuberculosis wards, visiting each patient for whom nurse care was inadequate. Which of course, without Nurse Murray to sate him, meant that Abraham had seen Renfield. Truly, he was a wretched case. Ill-manners, and apparently suffering from all manners of strange nutritional deficiencies. He’d begged for a kitten again, and failing that, went on to shriek and bash his head against the wall. More concerning was the fact that the man had a glass jar of spiders. Sure, the spiders were concerning, but not nearly so much as the glass. Abraham certainly took some nasty scrapes and bruises getting it away from Renfield, but he would take such minor injuries over a cut jugular any day.

But this was Monday. Dr. Seward was in, as well as Nurse Murray and Nurse Westenra. Sweet little Aubrey had him up much of the night with bad dreams about dogs and, more concerningly, being struck with something. In truth, he was exhausted, and thus deeply thankful for the help of Mr. Dracula.

“Mr. Dracula, could you please administer a dose of willow extract to Ms. Anderson?” Abraham said as he re-entered the tuberculosis ward. “She’s in rather a state, and I believe lowering the fever will help.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Mr. Dracula said pleasantly. “I’ve just gotten finished with the rounds in here. Would you like my list of patient complaints?”

“Yes, thank you,” Abraham said, barely hiding a yawn. “I can take over in here, if you would be so kind as to check on Dr. Seward in the psychiatric wing.”

“Right away,” Mr. Dracula said brightly. His smile faltered slightly. “Are you quite well?”

“I fear my sleep has been interrupted the last few nights by a certain four year old,” Abraham said with a tired smile.

“That is not good,” Mr. Dracula said, elegant brow furrowing slightly. “Perhaps it would do you well to have a night away? I would be more than happy to put you up for a night or two.”

It was tempting. An evening free from patient care or duty as Aubrey’s teddy bear would be most agreeable, especially given Mr. Dracula’s pleasant disposition and interest in his work. But alas, Abraham would do no such thing to a traumatized child. “I fear it would be unwise to remove myself suddenly from Aubrey. He’s of a rather delicate constitution and psyche, and I would see him more settled before I change his environment again.”

Mr. Dracula gave him a brilliant smile, odd teeth reminding Abraham of a second reason not to share quarters with the man just yet. While he was a man of science, and thus unwilling to accept the fanciful notion of vampirism that Mina and Lucy cooked up, there was some doubt. Better to cover all the bases and feel silly later than to end up victim to ignorance.

“You have quite strong parental instincts,” Mr. Dracula said gently. “I wouldn’t have expected it.”

“Nor I,” sighed Abraham. “But, evidently, I do. And it’s a good thing, considering the notable lack of parenting young Aubrey has received.”

“Very true,” nodded Mr. Dracula.

“I’ll meet you and Dr. Seward after I finish up in here,” Abraham said with a weak smile. “Oh, and Mr. Dracula?” Abraham asked as he turned to leave.

“Yes?” Mr. Dracula turned around, inquisitive charm written over his fine features.

“I, uh,” Abraham stumbled for words, “I may move our return to London to be slightly sooner, given the condition of our, uh, patients.”

“And yourself?” Mr. Dracula asked, gaze darkening mildly.

“I am not unwell,” Abraham said. He was surprised to feel the pinpricks of guilt in his fingers. “I simply need rest.”

“Very well. You are the doctor,” Mr. Dracula said. His eyes remained sharp, but he did leave, allowing Abraham the relative peace of the secluded hallway.

Once alone, Abraham allowed himself a moment to question the tingling in his fingers and the sinking weight in his stomach. He ran through his symptoms, internally responding to Mr. Dracula’s concerned prompting. Fatigue, weightloss, mild fever. Breathlessness. All were quite likely due to stress and sleeplessness. Satisfied, he returned to his ward.

The patient complaints given him by Mr. Dracula were largely those of later-stage patients in need of morphine as well as those of new patients still in need of diagnosis. In the early stages it was hard to detect; the White Death was hesitant in its pursuit of souls. Abraham, as always, crossed his fingers that each coughing child was suffering a pneumonia instead. Only time would tell.

“Describe your symptoms, please,” he said calmly. The patient was a young woman; barely past seventeen; in for having fainted during a fit of breathlessness while climbing the stairs of her house.

“Well, I was carrying up laundry from the line,” she said, rasping slightly in her pleasant Irish lilt. “I found I was in a breathless way, as happens, only this time I couldn’t catch my breath. I tried for a deep breath, which only made me cough, and next thing you know I’m on the floor and my mum is doing the sign of the cross.”

“I see,” Abraham said evenly. “Breathe as deeply as you can,” he said. He placed the stethoscope over her ribs on her back, listening to her breathing. It rattled and crackled. It was telltale if not definitive. “Do you have sweats at night?”

“You mean the night fevers?” She asked. Already the traces of resignation painted her delicate features. “I have them. Maybe once or twice a month.”

Abraham nodded. “Any discharge with the cough?”

“None yet,” she said gravely. “Doctor, may I be frank?”

Abraham bristled with nerves but nodded again. “Of course.”  
“It’s the cough. I know it is; it took my brother after his trip to London.” She said it as a statement and not at all as a question. “So just tell me how it is.”

“It...does seem to be tuberculosis,” he said slowly. Her face fell. “It is in its earlier stages, and there are things that can be done to stall the progress.”

“There’s no cure,” she said quietly. Abraham sighed.

“No, none yet,” he nodded. “But it can be stalled. Some people live for years.”

“Some people get months,” she said, swiping a tear from her brown eyes. Abraham, normally, would be over the moon for having an educated or knowledgeable patient. But not now. It is always easier when the patient doesn’t understand the severity of an illness such as consumption.

“Miss, it is paramount that you allow yourself some hope,” he urged, taking her hand. He looked earnestly into her miserable eyes. “If you despair, you will fail.”

“I won’t be able to work,” she said. “The medicine is expensive.”

“I will speak to Dr. Seward, who will be handling your case,” Abraham said. “I will see to it that some means of payment is adjusted such that you can receive treatment.” It was rare to get a case so early, when there were still legitimate treatments to stall the progress. He wouldn’t let finances cut her remaining life into thirds or fourths.

“Thank you,” she said, a sad smile playing on her lips.

“I will speak with him now,” Abraham said, standing. “In the meantime, I will have a nurse come by with some menthol for your chest as well as some medicine for your fever.”

With that, he was on his way. Dr. Seward ran a smaller hospital and one that served a closer-knit community, so there would be ways around the cost. There were always ways. He had three drafts of his appeal ready in his head as he rounded the corner towards the stairs to the more dangerous cases of the psych ward.

“Doctor!” Nurse Westenra called, breaking his focus from the righteous closing words he was working to prepare.

“Nurse Westenra,” he said, turning around. “What seems to be the matter?”

“I was hoping we could look at the samples I procured,” she said eagerly as she walked over. “From my rendez-vous with Mr. Dracula,” she added quietly.

“Right,” Abraham sighed. “Right. Of course. We can do that once I meet with him and Dr. Seward to discuss some recent injuries in some of the more violent patients.”

“Excellent,” Nurse Westenra smiled. “I’ll meet you in the lab in two hours.”

With that, he was alone again.

* * *

The overcrowding of the tuberculosis wing had long since caused beds to spill out into the halls, which in turn forced attending nurses and doctors had to shuffle around narrow spaces to treat those held there while simultaneously dodging the comings and goings of an increasingly frantic staff, laden with all manners of straight jackets, bottled medicines, and laundry baskets. A lovely mess of confined chaos Mina abhorred as much as she was grateful to.

She purposefully kept her eyes fixed upon the mess of bloody and fecal-stained bedsheets trapped in her arms as she wove through the hall containing Seward’s office. She knew from words carefully harvested from the grapevine (more affectionately known as Renfield) that Seward was to meet with Helsing this morning yet to discuss some issues in the asylum. The matter gave her pause as, even from her position of relative disconnect, time occupied and given to a frail Johnathan, Renfield’s worsening condition had not escaped her notice.

There was only one crisis to be dealt with at present however and the firm closing of Seward’s office granted her the opportunity to put this one aside. Mina swung to one side of the hall, deposited her sheets on the floor, and, with a pleasant smile, set about picking the lock to the office. Practiced skill and general mayhem allowed her to loosen the lock quickly enough as to ensure the other occupants of the hall that she had the key in hand and she slipped away from the crowded hall into a peaceful office. As always, the small but neat and academic space inspired jealousy within her nearly potent enough as to distract from her mission, but she pushed through it. Mina had, after all, promised dear Lucy a book of the damned delivered to her doorstep and she intended to deliver.

Mina crossed the room in four short strides and knelt before the great oaken filing cabinet. Another lock, opened with ease, and she was faced with the many files which served as the many support beams to the strained state hospital. Mina set her fingers to the lines, folding the papers back as she worked.

The folder for Dracula was stashed in the very front and she snagged it eagerly, holding it’s bent shape to the light. She peeled it open on her lap, mind already winding up to conquer whatever mysteries lay inside, only to be greeted by a single slip of magenta paper.

_NAME: Vlad Dracula_

_BIRTHDATE: 3 Jan 1850_

_BIRTHPLACE: Transylvania_

_MEDICAL TRAINING: Localized_

_FORMER EMPLOYER: Recommendations to follow _

_UNDER THE DIRECTION OF: _ _Dr. Seward, St. Mary’s Hospital for Consumptive Fever_

_Addendum: Transferred to the Care Of: Dr. Van Helsing, _ _St. Bartholomew's Hospital Medical College_ _, London_

_ FILED: 16 Feb 1885_

Mina sat back on her heels, frustration mauling disappointment. So much for the assumption of Seward as a source of enlightening information. She threw the file back into the cabinet, hesitated, and fixed the order so that it was not so obvious a stranger had been rummaging through them.

She stood and smoothed her skirt, casting a dark look around the room before landing firmly upon the desk. What were the chances that Seward had left his diary within the office? Limited. Extremely limited. She had hardly seen him without the monstrous book since their first encounter.

Oh but he was frazzled, was he not? Frazzled and overtired and forgetful.

She gently extended the drawer and, lo and behold, within lay the object of her desire: A dirty, damaged book, splattered with equal measures of tea, blood, and fly innards, courtesy of one of Renfield’s more violent fits. Mina could have squealed with childish delight, but as it were, she was working on a schedule.

She sat at the ordered desk and flipped through the book like a genealogist in search of family names. She stayed her hand in mid-February.

_16 February. --- Today I have received a most curious visiter; a man by the name of Mr. Dracula who has expressed his interest in studying under me as an apprentice. Naturally, I am welcome to aiding any in the pursuit of medicine, as I myself have been so frequently helped in the past, but I will admit in private and to this blank page (should they be useful or ridiculous in retrospect) I have my doubts of Mr. Dracula. For all his charm and poise, he has come to me without credentials or indeed a proper history of study. Though, I have been assured that he has practiced locally in his home country ( his basic skills would support such a claim) and that letters of recommendations will arrive imminently. Furthermore, why an immigrant of his obvious status (for there is no mistaking the step and sway of a man such as he, especially contrasted against the wind-haggard and sturdy stock of my hometown) would land and settle in Whitby is beyond my knowledge. _

_Overall, however, the man seems competent, well-natured, and well-intended. I will be glad, I believe, to have his company at least so far as a few weeks trial may provide. _

_ 6:34 PM --- Woman arrived at hospital with puncture wound to neck and symptoms mimicking a rapid onset consumption. Inconclusive test results. Wounds resemble needle (?) pricks. Have instructed Nurse Murray to monitor through the night. I will relieve her at dawn. Sudden relapse (????) from Renfield (monitor personally -- transfer to padded cell may be necessary -- do we have padding available? Check.)_

_ 9:56 PM --- Second case arrived. Man, late 30s, previously in perfect health according to wife. Given to Nurse Murray. Just alerted to the fact that Mr. Harker has shown signs of severe agitation -- hysteria symptoms, thrashing to the point of harm. Relieved Mr. Dracula of his watch and sent him home. (Most horrid that this will serve as his introduction to my hospital.) Will consolidate Mr. Harker with two patients (Mr. Harker alone in the ward beside consumption) to monitor while Murray attends to Renfield._

_ 3:18 AM --- Third case. Apparently the devil is with us tonight. _

“Nurse Murray?”

Mina startled, slamming the diary shut on instinct. The sound echoed as the sting of gunfire and there in the doorway stood Seward himself, looking at Mina with an expression caught evenly between shock and fury. Mina watched his muddled gaze wander from her’s to the propped cabinet to the diary and back once more.

Mina swallowed the instinctive glower lurking behind her lips and molded a smile as if of wet clay embedded with shattered flint. “Dr. Seward,” she said smoothly, “what are you doing here?”

“What am I--” it took the sleep-deprived man a moment to recover before a deep scowl set upon him, “This is my office, Nurse Murray. I ought to ask why _you _are here.”

“I was sent by Dr. Helsing.” Mina tried. “He required a note from your book in order to best treat a newly arrived patient.”

“Impossible.” Seward snapped. “I was just with Dr. Helsing and he mentioned nothing of the sort.”

Mina shrugged helplessly, attempting to draw herself into the perfect model of an innocent young woman. “Well, I haven’t the foggiest notion why he would conduct his work in such an odd manner. He is, as you may have noticed, an eccentric if brilliant doctor. Now if you’ll pardon me to my shift.” She attempted to brush past Seward only to be stopped by his hand gripped tight around her biceps.

Both parties stared at it until Seward, scarlet along his cheeks, cleared his throat and removed the hand. “My apologies, Miss Murray.” He used the proper version of her name. “I have forgotten myself.”

“Worry not.” Mina said, trying to shake the oddness of the break in edict from her mind.

Though it took a moment, Seward recovered and thus regained his anger, which he directed towards her once more. He closed the door before Mina could contemplate slipping away once more and crossed to his diary, opening it to the page she had been reading.

She lingered by the door, expecting a thorough chiding to follow or, more probably, a fit of polite yelling. Even as she observed him, however, his rage seemed to slip.

“You were reading of my initial interview with Mr. Dracula?” He asked in confusion.

“Yes.” Mina promptly answered.

“For what purpose?”

Mina raised her eyebrows but made the choice not to entertain his questions as Seward flipped ahead in the diary.

She waited, unable and indeed unwilling to do anything else until Seward spoke once more.

“It is odd, isn’t it…” Seward began slowly, voice high, lilted, and uncertain, “that Mr. Dracula came to us just at the start of such a trying time.”

Mina blinked at him. “I…” she eyed him, unsure of the shift which had come between their stoned wall of hatred and contempt. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Even odder still that he has made such a shift.” Seward muttered.

“How do you mean?” Mina asked, now latching onto the temporary truce with both hands.

Seward startled as if he had forgotten she was there but leaned forward nevertheless. “When he arrived to me, Mr. Dracula was very clear in his intent to engage in work with the asylum; to move towards the betterment of man in that manner. Yet, for all his relative skill, he so agitates patients, so upsets them. Renfield is obsessed with him, the hysteric cower back in terror at his approach, the depressed wither aside, and your poor fiancé…”

“He is horrified at Dracula’s very existence; his entrance into a room.” Mina supplied as she took the seat across from him. “He still looks for him, you know? Even in our comfortable home, he insists on a thorough examination each time he wakes.”

As if in response, Seward glanced about the room and dropped his voice. “Have you monitored his neck?”

“You suspect Mr. Dracula to have a role in that madness?” Mina asked, shocked beyond the point of secrecy, not so much at Dracula’s involvement but at Seward’s admittance.

“I...No,” Seward shook his head with an uncharastically demure smile. “It is absolutely improbable.”

“But not impossible.”

Seward bit his lip, suddenly every inch the frightened and inexperienced fool she had long accused him of being. Though, perhaps fool was the wrong word. He looked more a young boy abandoned to his own company at the height of an examination period. A man out of his depth and for a second, disconcerting time, Mina felt sympathy for him.

“Nurse Murray,” he finally said, “we both are…” the words seemed to physically pain him, “we are both practitioners of extended experience. Things worsen, do they not?”

“The anemic patients--” Mina sighed.

“Yes, them, but also Renfield and Havershire and Smith and so many others in the asylum and Harker-- Harker should not have gotten as bad as he did!” Struck by sudden mania, Seward stood straight from his chair and pressed his palms flat to the desk. “Miss Murray, I implore you understand, something so simple as a-- a brain fever should never have escaped my notice! Your fiancé was raving in every sense, wrecked, tormented, unable to be broken from his nightmares in any way known. I had to resort to extreme and unexplored methods to even keep him from starving-- As I’m sure you must know, having traveled with him from the East.” He threw his hands skyward. “And yet! Dr. Helsing walks in and successfully breaks him of the haze of madness in mere days. Days!”

“Helsing is an accomplished doctor.” Mina said, though she leaned forward, intrigued both by the words and the odd sentiment. Her boldness rose in direct correlation to his. “And you are not a truly talented man as he.”

Seward glared at her weakly. “Nurse Murray, my natural aptitude towards the craft may be...lacking in comparison to Helsing. I will admit it. I am not such a creature of pride as to be blind. I do not have his skill nor...well, nor yours in honesty.”

Mina’s eyes widened.

“But,” Seward continued hastily, “Helsing is a doctor of tuberculosis at heart and soul. He is gifted in the treatment of physical ailments but I know for fact his experiences with mental deviation is limited. _We _are the experts there. And to imply neither of us could see the forest for the trees?”

“It seems posterous.” Mina agreed. She eyed Seward. “May I ask something of you, Dr. Seward?”

Seward tipped his chin back to her as he apparently remembered his rightful place as her superior. “What?”

“I want your book.”

Seward paled. “Absolutely not!” He cried.

“For a night, you ridiculous man. Stop your babyish sobbing.” Mina said before she could stop herself. She clamped her mouth shut, blinded fear rushing in to blanket the frustration.

Seward, however, seemed too dumbstruck to properly respond and thus only nodded. “For the night.” He managed as he slid the book across the table. “Only the night. And,” he maintained his grip on the spine when she reached for it, “whatever you have so planned, I wish to know of it.”

Mina frowned. “How do I know you to be trustworthy?”

Seward looked tired. “We have known each other for years, Nurse Murray. Does your passion so overwhelm your common sense that you can’t see my constant defense of you?”

“Your defense?” Mina spat. “In what way have you ever--”

“Every month for the past five years I have exchanged letters with the state’s office, justifying my decision to keep you as head nurse in my ward and further explaining the freedom and power you hold over the men’s asylum.” Seward smiled humorlessly. “They do not find it very _proper_ to have a woman holding the position of my co-doctor, even unofficially. Make no mistake, Nurse Murray, I find you absolutely insufferable. But do not make enemies of your allies.” He released the book. “Lest you find yourself with none.”

Mina picked up the book gingerly and held it to her chest. “Well...if allies we are, we form a sorry lot.”

“I won’t deny it.” Seward sighed as he pinched the space between his eyes. “Shall I see you tomorrow?”

“...You shall.” Mina said. She wandered to the door and paused to glance back at Seward, still bent near to double in his chair. “Good afternoon, sir.”

Seward glanced up. “Uh...and to you. Ma’am.”

Mina nodded stiffly and departed.

* * *

_Monday, 04/03/1885_

_ Feeling faint, though not enough to avoid work or my responsibilities to Mina, Van Helsing, or Aubrey. I do regret working on the samples with Van Helsing. They are exactly as I described: Anticoagulative saliva which cannot be of human origin. Even worse, it has some particle or plasma or _ _something_ _ in it that neither of us can identify. Perhaps another indicator of vampirism. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps I am slowly being driven insane. In any case, it is in my bloodstream without a doubt, so we shall see. _

_ It takes all my effort not to see my unwellness as a symptom of the harm that has been done to me. Most likely it is a minor infection from the dog bite, but I am still beginning to grow suspicious. I mustn’t tell Mina or Van Helsing for fear that their either pity me or decide that I too am becoming a monster. _

_ I am fairly certain that I am not. Even if my faintness is a caused by Dracula’s bite, my symptoms would be more in line with the anemic victims that have been presented to me and they are not yet horrific creatures of the night. Yet. _

_ And yet, I have found a sort of resolve. If I am to die or become completely indisposed, I will tell Mina that I love her. It could be only one small comfort in a sea of troubles. A final comfort. I do not know how one kills a vampire or even if it is any different from killing a human. I will find out and put my knowledge to good use. If the worst is to come the worst, it may be the only way in which I can protect Mina, Van Helsing, and little Aubrey. I cannot even dream of living with their revulsion or Aubrey’s fear. _

“Lucy!” The toddler shrieked as he tugged on her skirts as she quickly closed her diary. “Monster!” Aubrey bawled his eyes out as she held him in her arms. Lucy was about to soothe him with reassurances that there was certainly no such thing, but then her mind flashed to the snarling dog with bloody eyes and the itching wound on her leg.

“There, there,” she said as she pushed the hair from his forehead. “I’ll always protect you. Can you show me where you found him?”

Lucy found it unbelievably difficult to haul herself to her feet, never mind carry the child, but she did so anyway despite the pain. He guided her to a window that overlooked the garden. Though many spring flowers were not quite in bloom, nothing seemed particularly amiss until she saw a set of red eyes underneath the blackberry bush. They watched, not as an animal watches its prey, but as a scientist observes an experiment.

Lucy sat Aubrey on a table and quickly drew the shutters shut. He wept and reached out for her hand, which she willingly gave. “He’ll eat you,” he babbled.

“No, sweetling,” Lucy said as she wiped away his tears. “He would have to become something far more fearsome than a dog to even dream of eating me.” He shook his head and shoved his face into her chest. “Dearest, I promise I can defend myself and I have sweet Mina to protect me as well. She is more brave than even the most gallant of knights.” She sensed something change in Aubrey’s manner. “And she will protect you as well.” Lucy smiled as she rocked him against her. “We all love you deeply.”

Aubrey seemed unsatisfied, even with that answer and continued to cling to her. Lucy didn’t quite find this situation disagreeable, only that her mobility was severely hindered and she had promised Mina she would take care of her fiancé in her absence. Though she was sure he was still sleeping, she wished Jonathan could tell her where she could find a gun in Mina’s darling little cottage so she could shoot that damned dog once and for all and end his reign of terror on Aubrey’s fragile heart.

It didn’t even have to be a gun. A knife could also do quite nicely. Or a ceremonial sword so she can mark her victory of triumph. Lucy laughed to herself and drew a strange look from the sniffly Aubrey. It would have been a dreadful business if she could even bring herself to do it. She took one look into her boy’s eyes and the thought was immediately chased away. Lucy could kill a man if it meant protecting him.

Lucy held Aubrey close to her chest, even though it pained her to do so. His tiny breath evened out against her shoulder as she hummed nonsensical nursery rhymes into his hair.She was tired. Oh so tired. If she could just curl into Mina’s bed; into Mina’s arms, then she could finally have her rest.

Aubrey startled as the lock on the front door clicked open. Lucy ran a comforting hand down his back and checked for the identity of the new intruder.

“Dr. Van Helsing! You look like death,” Lucy said as she approached her dear doctor. The bags that sat under his eyes were atrocious and it seemed like he held his limbs with a supreme discomfort.

“I cannot say you look much better, Nurse Westenra,” he said with a slight smile.

Lucy smiled back and ran her free hand through her hair. “I’m afraid it has been a sleepless night followed by a restless day. I’m sure it’s nothing that a good meal and night of sleep won’t fix.” Dr. Van Helsing nodded as he gently took Aubrey from her arms. “And I’m afraid our dear child has suffered quite a fright.”

“Oh?” Dr. Van Helsing asked as he stroked through Aubrey’s hair. “Would you like to tell me what has transpired?” The boy thought for a moment and shook his head. “That is quite alright. Lucy and I will keep you safe all the same.”

Lucy smiled sadly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before she left to fulfil her promise and take care of Mina’s Jonathan. She folded a rogue blanket over her arm and knocked gently on his door. She took his pitiful groan as a sign that she may enter and slowly pushed open the oaken door.

The poor solicitor looked far worse for wear. Though he was far from the brain-fevered madman Lucy had initially met, he was still wracked with exhaustion. “May I interest you in a blanket or maybe a cup of tea?” She asked, putting on her best face of neutral pleasantness. Jonathan made a sound that Lucy supposed she was supposed to interpret as words, but couldn’t find any inherit meaning to it. “I’m afraid I am not privy to your tastes, good sir, but Mina is quite fond of you, so I’m sure she’ll have something you might enjoy.”

“I’m sorry you have to meet me like this,” Jonathan said as he laboriously turned towards her. Lucy shushed him with a wave of her hand and pulled a quilt back over his shoulder.

“Don’t be silly. The moment I heard of you, I’ve wanted to meet you. This unfortunate situation is most certainly not your fault,” Lucy said with an easy smile.

“Oh, but it is. If I had listened to Mina--”

“If everyone had listened to Mina, the world would be a much better place.” She brought a glass of water over from the bureau. “Drink. It will restore some of your vitality.” Truthfully, she should drink as well, but the frail young man was clearly in greater need. She raised the glass to his lips and he took small sips. It wasn’t what Lucy was hoping for, but with what she’d heard from Mina, it was a step in the right direction. 

“So what have you heard of me?” Jonathan asked with the ghost of a laugh.

“Oh, um…” Lucy had to think for a moment. The honest answer was, not much. “I know that you are a solicitor who has traveled to Transylvania.”

“Astute observation, Nurse Westenra.” He closed his eyes and allowed his contentedness to spread across his face.

“I know your last name is Harper--”

“Harker.”

“Oh. Oh my.” Lucy hid her blushing cheeks against the back of her arm. “I think I may have been a horrible friend.”

“How so?” Jonathan asked, clearly taking delight in her mild discomfort. His eyes seemed to hold a vital shimmer that had been lacking before. At least Lucy could provide him with some small joy just as the click of the door signalling sweet Mina’s return provided for her. 

“It is practically a crime that I should know nothing at my best friend’s sweet fiancé. I haven't even staged a proper interrogation. Truly, it’s a shame,” Lucy said as she busied her arms with rearranging things on the desk. There was a vial of ink, parchment paper bound up in twine, and seashells.

“Well, you may let your interrogation begin. I am currently being held captive by my own illness,” Jonathan hissed slightly when Lucy wet a cloth with cool water and placed it on his forehead.

“Oh hush, it’s good for you,” she said, goodnaturedly. “How did you two meet?”

“I found Mina while I was out on a walk. She was up to some of her usual tricks and I hardly thought I had ever seen someone more interesting.” Jonathan smiled and let Lucy pull a wicker chair up to his bedside.

“Interesting certainly is a way to describe her,” she mused. “I met her while we were in nursing school. She was in one of my anatomy classes and we would study together.” Lucy thought it wise to leave out the parts involving rather intimate touch. “She is magnetic, is she not? I have never found someone as worthy of the world as she.” Lucy sighed and cast her eyes out the window. “I was beginning to worry that I wouldn’t see her again, but now look where we are.”

“I can assure you that Mina would never have let that happen.” Jonathan shifted in his bed. “ She speaks of you and all your virtues constantly. Truly, I think there is no one in the world that makes her quite as happy as you.”

“That’s nonsense,” Lucy said with the twitch of her hand. “You are her fiancé, soon to be her husband. Surely, you must make her happier still.” This was a conversation that she dreaded needing to have. Mina, of all the women on this earth, deserved someone who loved her full heartedly and without reservation. Mina deserved to be happy.

“I lack many of your features that I think Mina finds most agreeable; your features and your charms. She is particularly enamored with your penchant for small, glass sea creatures.”

“They remind me of her,” Lucy whispered before she remembered who else was in the room with her. “How much do you know about me?”

“Well, Lucy Adelia Westenra, I know that you are a nurse with a soft spot for children, even those you can’t take home with you. I know you love amaranthine, both the color and the flower, and that you someday wish to live near the sea. I know that you used to write poetry and that you used to be quite good, still are if we’re going by Mina’s metric, but gave it up to study medicine because you thought it was the right thing to do. I know you disdain men and hope you never have to marry, but would settle for the doctor if you were forced. You still like to climb trees even though you are a full twenty five years old--”

“That is quite enough!” Lucy said as she leaned on her forearms. “This is my interrogation and I have another question for you.”

“Very well, ask away,” Jonathan said with a soft smile.

“Do you love Mina?”The question rang around the room like church bells, thunderous and strange.At once, a ball of lead laced guilt dropped into Lucy’s stomach. It was an unfair question and she knew it. “No, you do not need to answer that,” Lucy said as she quickly pushed herself up from the chair.

The world went spinning and she left her hands on the bed and then the ground. She tried to clamber to her knees, but the room went black.


	9. Chapter IX: Tuesday, 04/04/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham has a sleepover. Mina arranges a meeting. Lucy storms the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a lovely New Years and welcome to 2020! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated as is feedback!

Abraham didn’t sleep  _ at all _ . What with Lucy’s sudden fit of syncope and sweet Aubrey’s newly-discovered night terrors (one of which included wetting the bed), he was up all night. Mina was more than willing to see to Harker and Lucy, but Aubrey’s nerves refused to be still for longer than a half of hour, shaking even as he slept. 

By comparison, the hospital was calm.

He was asked to check on a few suspected cases of consumption in the psychiatric ward after his regular rounds. If he had slept, he might have said he woke up feeling under the weather. As it was, the differentiation between the previous evening and the new morning was null, and he felt worn. Despite any of Lucy’s misgivings about Mr. Dracula, he was a godsend. He even offered to carry his medical kit as they performed the rounds together, which was a tremendous help. Another blessing was the light caseload of patient complaints: A bit of expectorant here, some willow extract there, and they were done in the main ward. 

“We have a few upstairs to see,” Abraham said as Mr. Dracula packed up the medical kit. 

“Ah, I recall. Dr. Seward was concerned about a few coughs,” Mr. Dracula said. 

They started the climb upstairs. Abraham focused on each worn stone step, careful not to trip. He frowned slightly at the difficulty of raising one foot and then another; after five steps he felt his breath and heart rate escalate. Aware of his physical state, he felt the sweat on his back despite the drafty halls and the delicate velvet frame around his vision as he neared the top. 

He paused for breath, and found it to be raspy and uneven. The act of straining for air triggered something in his chest and generated a hard cough, which in turn further inhibited his breathing. Like a maiden introduced to blood for the first time, he felt the ground rush to him as he fell victim to a swoon. 

“--Helsing?” He heard a familiar voice ask, plucking at his weak unconsciousness. “Dr. Van Helsing, can you hear me?” 

“Yes,” Abraham muttered, eyes flickering open. He tried to sit up only to have a firm set of hands press him back down. He followed the hands up to their owner, finding himself suddenly very unable to meet the worried gaze of Mr. Dracula. 

“Try to move slowly,” Dr. Seward said carefully. Abraham couldn’t look at him either, but he forced himself to. 

“I know how to manage myself,” Abraham grumbled, sitting up slowly. He was on the small sofa in Dr. Seward’s office. “I fainted?”

“Yes,” Mr. Dracula said quietly. “Coming up the stairs.” 

“You have a rather sharp fever,” Dr. Seward said with a voice that made Abraham acutely aware of the disparity of their ages. “I was just asking Mr. Dracula if he would be willing to walk you home.” 

“Home?” Abraham asked. “There are patients to be seen.” 

“And you are within their ranks, Abraham,” Dr. Seward said with intimacy he was not entitled to. “Mr. Dracula informed me of your suboptimal living arrangements, and we are in agreement that you should rest at his home until your fever breaks.” 

“Do I get a say in this prescription?” Abraham asked, though he had a distinct sense he did not. “There are matters at Ivy Cottage that I am needed for.” 

“What matters are worth so little sleep?” Dr. Seward said in his mildly patronizing way. “And when is the last time you ate a square meal? You’re deathly thin.” 

“There is a four year old who has declared Nurse Westenra and I his guardians,” Abraham said defensively. “He is frail of body and mind, and I do not want to break what little calm he has by suddenly being absent.” 

“Surely she can manage a baby on her own,” Dr. Seward said with a smile. “She’s a woman, after all. Besides, she has Nurse Murray.” 

“He is not partial to Nurse Murray yet, nor Mr. Harker,” Abraham sighed. “I fear it must be Lucy and I.” 

“One night,” Mr. Dracula offered. “Get one night of rest and hopefully it will dull the fever and bring back your strength.” 

Abraham thought briefly back to the state of Lucy, as well as her copious warnings against Mr. Dracula. “I may need to bring him with me.” 

“That’s alright,” Mr. Dracula said hesitantly. A faint show of distaste crept across his face.

“Fine,” Abraham conceded. “Shall we get back to work, then?” 

“Actually––” Mr. Dracula started.

“You’re going home now, Dr. Helsing.” Dr. Seward said firmly. Abraham frowned.

“Am I?” Abraham asked, aware of his own defeat. “I want to swing by Ivy Cottage to pick up Aubrey.” 

“I must insist that you focus on your rest, Dr. Van Helsing,” Mr. Dracula said politely. “Perhaps leave the toddler with Nurse Murray?” 

“Absolutely not,” Abraham said firmly, getting up slowly and pulling on his jacket. “If I am to rest, I won’t have it add further burden to anyone.” 

The walk with Mr. Dracula would have been pleasant were it not for his unending queasiness and general discomfort. Manners and appearances aside, he was relieved when Mr. Dracula offered him his arm for support. 

To his surprise, it was not Lucy who opened the door to greet him at Ivy Cottage. 

“Mr. Harker!” Abraham said brightly. “You’re up and about, how very––”

“Helsing!” Aubrey shouted, half-distressed and half-happy as he ran up to the door. 

“Hello,” Abraham smiled, cautiously lifting Aubrey into his arms. He nearly missed the fact that Mr. Dracula had a hand against his back, just in case. An odd warmth crept across his cheeks. “Mr. Harker, I have been prescribed bedrest. I don’t wish to bother you or Nurse Murray with the care of Aubrey while Nurse Westenra is ill, so I was thinking of bringing him with me to Mr. Dracula’s home for a day or two.” 

“I believe that’s fine,” Mr. Harker said with a tired pleasantness. “I’ll let Lucy know once she wakes.” 

“Is that agreeable?” Abraham asked Aubrey, who was sucking on his thumb while staring at Mr. Dracula intently, earning a smile in return.

“He gave me the train,” Aubrey said, as if it were an answer.

“Yes, he did,” Abraham said kindly. “Shall we pack up your things and have a restful vacation at Mr. Dracula’s house?” The little boy nodded. 

After packing Aubrey’s scant belongings, they started the walk to Mr. Dracula’s house. It was a considerably long ordeal, given that it was across town and Abraham really couldn’t walk at full speed whilst carrying Aubrey. Mr. Dracula offered to take him, but Aubrey refused to be held for any length of time by anyone other than himself or Lucy. It was a tremendous relief to get home and he no longer felt any resentment at having been sent away for rest. 

Mr. Dracula’s home was decidedly nice. The furnishings were robust enough for country life, but they were all very fine and of the top quality for Whitby. There were oriental carpets as well, which were slightly out of place in a modest coastal town, but handsome nonetheless. The windows had a pleasant view of the sea, and were quite clean. The kitchen was utterly pristine. 

“The bedroom is upstairs, I’m afraid,” Mr. Dracula said apologetically. Abraham placed Aubrey down, who promptly ran a lap around the downstairs to explore. “Why don’t I help you to get settled, and then I can bring you up some tea?” 

“Tea sounds lovely,” Abraham smiled weakly. He was certain he would collapse if he stayed standing too much longer. He gazed morosely at the steep staircase.

“May I be of assistance?” Mr. Dracula said quietly. To Abraham’s horror, he saw that Mr. Dracula had extended his hand to him. 

“Uh…” He looked back at the stairs and recalled his earlier mishap. “Yes. Yes, I believe that would be wise.” He gingerly placed his hand in Mr. Dracula’s, which was cold but not disagreeably so. He gripped it harder as they climbed the stairs, bracing his other one on the railing. Even after the one flight his vision was wavering as his breathing was raspy. 

He let Mr. Dracula pull back the blankets for him and help him into bed. It was a rather undignified affair, and he was certain it violated mentorship boundaries, but it was appreciated. He felt his cheeks flush as Mr. Dracula pressed a hand to his forehead. It hadn’t occurred to him before that such a simple thing could be so intimate.

“You’re very warm,” Mr. Dracula said, handsome brow knit with concern. “I’ll bring you some tea, and––” He was cut off by Aubrey wailing Abraham’s name below, “––a toddler,” Mr. Dracula added with a slight smile. 

“Don’t give him caffeinated tea,” Abraham said sleepily, already feeling his exhaustion betraying him. “He likes blueberry.” 

“I’ll see what I have,” Mr. Dracula said gently. 

As Abraham drifted off, he was sure he felt Mr. Dracula squeeze his hand.

* * *

“This is an atrocity. A true violation against my most gentle and grateful manner.” Mina complained loudly as she paced from the kitchen table across the still-spread thimbles and rail lines of the empire to the bedroom door, which parted her from her abruptly frail friend. Johnathan reclined upon the sofa, close-eyed now that they lacked a company which required presentation and poise. He and Mina had long passed that distinct point of pleasantries with each other and longer yet attained the intimacy needed to be rude. Therefore, it was that Mina could rant and rave and throw her hands skyward to curse an unresponsive God and Johnathan could sink into himself and mutter. 

“What have I ever done but offer myself up to the service of others? What have been except what I am meant to be? What more could the world want from me? Why, I am the very picture of a kind and courteous woman and yet there is disaster at every corner!”

On the sofa, Johnathan stirred. “You? Courteous?” He said, eyebrows twisted with doubt. “I had no inclination you had you had molded yourself into a respectable member of society in my brief absence.”

Mina directed a poisonous glance upon him and huffed. “I may have changed, but your jokes remain as exhaustive as ever.”

Johnathan shrugged, a small yet delighted smile playing upon his lips. Quickly, however, it was chased away by the fatigue in Mina’s close-lipped seriousness. With effort, he climbed to his feet and caught her by the shoulder. “She will be well again. It is certain.”

“Hardly so.” Mina muttered. She gently removed his hand from her shoulder. “She was…” She paused. Though Johnathan was in recovery, slowly yet surely returning to the man of infinite jest and foolhardy caring she had known, he had not yet heard of Lucy’s plights with Dracula. As much as she wished for his council and, more importantly, his intimate knowledge…

But who she fooling? With the rapid decline of Lucy’s health and now word that Helsing may be following the same course (or indeed, dipping into something far worse), there remained no time for peace. 

Mina sighed and directed Johnathan by the elbow to once more sit on the couch. He appeared nervous as she pulled the deep red quilt around his shoulders. “Johnathan,” she said as softly as she was able, “I need to know what exactly came to pass at Bran Castle.” Even as the shallow blush in Johnathan’s cheeks drained, she pushed forward with relentless intent. “Your letters haven’t been enough to decipher a true account but with your testimony, I should have enough to bring our knowledge together and in that way, we can make true strides towards ridding ourselves of this beast!”

Johnathan’s breathing turned staggered as did his eyes, which whipped back and forth across the room. “She…” he swallowed, “she was bitten wasn’t she?” His voice rang with desperation.

Mina nodded.

“Then she is lost.” As if struck with a shot of adrenaline, Johnathan stood. “We must-- we must drive her from this house before she-- before something--”

“Lay a hand on Lucy and I will take it off.” Mina snapped ferociously. Her tone seemed to pull Johnathan back to himself, for he suddenly appeared ashamed.

“I am sorry.” He mumbled as he sank back into the seat cushion. “I shouldn’t speak so of your dear love.”

Flustered, Mina drew back. “She isn’t--” Mina protested before the words died under Johnathan’s incredibly tired gaze. “I am not so obvious.” She decided instead.

“You, my intended, are entirely so.” Johnathan returned with a quirk of the head. “I swear it is beyond wonder that Lucy herself has not noticed your longing gazes and tender words. Though I can see now from the brief talk we shared that she is perhaps as dumbminded as you are.”

“She is not dumb!” Mina crossed her arms and glowered. “Lucy is the quickest and finest wit I have ever encountered; sharp tongued and strong willed beyond the feeble likenesses of you and I.”

Johnathan held up his hands. “Ah but you do not love her. Now you have me convinced.”

Mina set her jaw and busied her hands arranging the pillows at the couch’s opposite end so that she might hide her face without shielding it. “Yes, well,” she said awkwardly as she silently cursed the day she had tied herself to the man abreast of her, “good.”

“Quite.” Johnathan agreed. From the corner of Mina’s eye, she could see his own fix upon the door to her room, palish blue feverish in their intensity. 

“He is a vampire.” Mina prompted her fiancé back to the original inquiry. 

“He is a demon.” Jothathan shuddered. “A menace, a hybrid, a creature not of this earth or realm.”

Sympathetic to his fears, Mina sets a hand upon his knee. Seeking solace, he covered it with this own. As with the whiteness of his face and the slots of his eyes, his hands lay as cold and bloodless as snap-necked birds. “Tell me.” Mina commanded. “Tell me all. There is no monster here now. Only thee and me, as always was.”

Johnathan shook his head. “He is...the count has powers beyond even the stretches of imagination or, I will admit, the limits of mine.” He found a shaky but deep drawl of air. “But I will try to tell you all that is missing from my letters.”

“Thank you.” Mina said earnestly. “I will retrieve Lucy once she is risen and--”

“No.” Her fiancé’s voice was wretched in its firmness and it caught Mina off guard to hear such a tone directed at her. She opened her mouth, ready to drag Johnathan through the mud for his daring to order her about, but he beat her to the words. “Your Lucy has been infected by the enemy, the walking fiend of our darkest nightmares. To whatever extent the infection has set upon her, she is his or, at the very least, out of our hands. She is not to know. Not she nor indeed the good doctor Van Helsing, who walks shoulder to shoulder with the count as if they were the sweetest of friends.” As if to emphasize his point, Johnathan leaned forward and clutched her forearms. His untrimmed nails dug into her flesh, leaving little red crescent moons along the surface. “I shall relay all I know to you, to Seward, with whom you have formed an uneasy alliance by your words, hell, I shall even talk to that silly American cowboy running around the hospital if need be, but do not ask me to give clarity to our oppressor. It will be the ruin of us should he know how close we near to his truth. How close you already are.”

Shaken by the assertion and twice as upset, Mina stood and jutted out her chin. Her mind swam like the ocean after a strong storm, calm rational of the surface attempting to smoother the fervent and heady currents beneath. “I will do nothing without Lucy. She is our ally, one who risked worse than death to bring us to where we now stand. I refuse to lie to her about this. She and Helsing  _ will _ know.”

“Then none of you will hear me.” Johnathan insisted stubbornly, though the words seemed to physically pain him. Confrontation was not his forte and, in most cases, he wilted like the first flower of spring under even the slightest inflection of Mina’s tone. His resolve on this matter distrubed her as much as it did him. It cast doubt on her certainties, among which Lucy always was the kindest. 

“What is more important?” Johnathan broke into her dreadful musings. “The life of Lucy or her trust?”

“I would care for both.” Mina grimaced.

“But given that you cannot?” Johnathan tried. 

“...Then her life. Of course.” Mina admitted. She hesitated before the next words escaped her, coated upon her lips like venom’s kiss. “You think the bite shall affect her? It has not done so in any other patient known.”

“To our knowledge. All I know is what I saw in that horrid place. And among what I saw were maidens,” a haunted look washed into Jothathan’s unsteady gaze, “transformed in the prime of their youth. Hungry. Cold. Groping in the dark for a meal denied to them by the count’s snarl. I may have been their prize had the count not intervened but I saw what sated their missed opportunity. Or, rather I should say, who. A half-smothered child.”

Mina’s keen eye flashed to the thimble city. “Oh.” She said, voice small enough to be swallowed by the empty space surrounding them.

A shifting in the other room alarmed her. Both she and Johnathan sprung to their feet, though the other fell back nearly immediately, finding himself unable to stand on shaking legs. Mina gestured for him to keep still and crossed to the room. Within, there lay Lucy, exactly as Mina had left her. Exactly, Mina realized, save the open window, which let a light rain skitter across the sill. As she closed it, a pressure at the back of her neck alerted of the eyes upon her. Sure enough, a turn of the head revealed the spray of storm clouds at her back. 

“Lucy, you are awake.” Mina smiled, though she found herself removed from true joy by the worry of Johnathan’s words. Nevertheless, she crossed the room and took her place at Lucy’s bedside, putting one hand to the sallow woman’s forehead. “How do you fare?” She asked in a nurse’s tone. “Are you queasy? Does the world spin? Can you follow my words?” A bewilderingly soft smile across Lucy’s face stopped her short and, without thought, Mina let her hand drift from the forehead to caress Lucy’s cheek. “Are you okay?” She asked gently.

“I am well.” Lucy lied. Mina offered her a stern look and Lucy relented. “I have...been better, I suppose.”

“You have a fever.” Mina scolded. “Why did you not tell me sooner? I have worked in the consum–– I have worked as a nurse for many years, just as you have. I could have helped.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. You already have so much to think of.” Lucy defended without true strength, her rosy mouth still slipped into that entrancing, apologetic smile; the one that made one want to forget they had ever been mad at her to begin with. Mina refused to fall to its allure more than she already had. 

She removed her hand from Lucy’s cheek and smoothed the sheets to loosen the feeling of absence from her skin. “There are people in this world worth losing sleep over. You are the one I have chosen to stare at the ceiling for.”

Lucy’s smile slipped and for a moment Mina feared she’d said too much. But then Lucy retrieved her hand and pressed it to her lips. “I have never been so honored to be insulted.” She said. “But do not lose sleep. I will recover presently.”

“I am sure.” Mina smiled even as the currents in her head crashed onto the beach. 

She stayed with Lucy as long as could be considered reasonable then left her to her evening’s rest. Upon emerging, she found Johnathan curled on one end of the couch, contentedly still for once. She smoothed his hair as she passed and sat at the desk. She carefully piled Seward’s precious notes to one side along with the makeshift book of letters, accounts, and news clippings which was beginning to form her diary of the undead.

_ St. Mary Hospital for Consumptive Fever, Whitby., _

_ April. 4, 1885. _

_ Seward, _

_ I am calling a meeting tomorrow to discuss what I have learned of the situation at hand. My fiancé will join us in discussing this matter and you are welcome to invite any you feel may be helpful. Be aware, however, that this issue should be contained. I do not wish for news of our rendezvous to reach the patients, least of all Renfield, nor for loose lips to inform Dr. Van Helsing. Or Nurse Westenra.  _

_ God above, I hope you are as trustworthy as you claimed to be.  _

_ Good Biddings, _

_ Murray _

_ Nurse Wilhelmina Murray _

_ Ivy Cottage, Whitby. _

* * *

_ Tuesday, 04/04/1885 _

_ All pretenses that my sickness comes as a result from a normal dog bite have completely fled. This weakness that has infected my limbs and chest is uncharacteristic of anything I’ve ever felt. The amount of effort it takes to even move this pen is highly distressing.  _

_ I hope Van Helsing and Aubrey come home soon. Every moment they’re away from that damnable leech is a moment I can rest easier and devote myself entirely to healing (in so much as I am able). Mina says _

“Mina says that you must stop writing and commit yourself to rest,” her sweet voice rang above Lucy’s aural fog. 

She groaned as Mina tried to take the diary from her hands. “I must document my symptoms so I may know what ails me.” Mina’s lovely eyes were filled with tiredness and fear, though of what, she could not know. “It seems as though you are more in need of rest than me.”

“I assure you that is not true. I am the very picture of health.” She gently placed the diary on the dresser, far from Lucy’s reach. 

“Are you to sleep with me tonight, then?” Lucy asked, reaching out for Mina’s hand. 

“I could not wish to impose upon your recovery,” she said with a small frown. “Surely, you must not worry about my comfort or wellbeing. I am here to help you.”

“Are you to sleep with your husband then?” She asked with a smirk. 

“Lucy,” she stammered. “We are not yet married. It would be an entirely inappropriate to––”

“Then are you to be relegated to the couch?”

“Lucy…” Mina sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing down the sheets.

“Oh, I had forgotten, that is where Dr. Van Helsing and sweet Aubrey sleep.” Lucy closed her eyes and moved closer to her friend. 

“There is no need to be an ass,” Mina snapped as she pulled away slightly. 

“My dear friend, I only mean to ask you to sleep with me,” Lucy said sheepishly. “I have...grown accustomed to your sweet company. If you truly think it not to be wise, then I trust your judgement.” 

Mina sighed and drew her hand across her forehead once more. “I suppose it would be fine, seeing as if you were consumptive, I’d be doomed anyway.”

“How sweetly you assure me of my recovery,” Lucy said with a pained sigh. The Ivy Cottage was quieter than it should have been. Lucy could tell by the pink light that filtered through the curtains that it was beginning to get late enough so as to expect the sounds of Aubrey either playing or crying. The only familiar noise was the scratching of the poplar tree on the open window. “What time is it?” She asked. “I would expect Dr. Van Helsing and Aubrey to be home by this hour.”

Lucy could feel Mina’s hand tense against her skin. “I...believe Dr. Van Helsing has been taken somewhat ill and is staying with Mr. Dracula for the night.” 

“And what of Aubrey?” Lucy asked as she shot up. “Surely Dr. Seward wouldn’t have him stay with...someone who may be sick.” Try as she might, Lucy could only see Dracula’s doubled fangs slicing into Aubrey’s throat.

“Lucy…” Mina said, stroking a soft hand over her arm, clearly in an ineffectual attempt to calm her. 

“Mina, where is my child?” Lucy lowered her voice as her blood rushed to her ears. Her beloved friend gave her a strange look. “Our child.” The fear in Mina’s eyes and her grip on Lucy’s wrist only intensified. “The child!” Lucy tore away from Mina’s grasp. “I must go get him at once. Dr. Van Helsing can become food for that monster if he likes, but I cannot let my Aubrey suffer the same fate.”

Lucy took two steps across the cold floor before she fell into Mina’s arms. The beating of her heart against Lucy’s chest thrummed like a wardrum demanding action. “Come back to bed,” Mina murmured in a failed attempt at calm. “I’ll join you and you can see Dr. Van Helsing and Aubrey in the morning, provided you’re well enough.”

“No, no.” Lucy pawed feebly at Mina’s shirtfront. “I can’t let him hurt Aubrey. I can’t.” Tears welled in her eyes and dripped inelegantly down her cheeks. 

At once, Mina took pity on her friend and drew her into her arms. “There’s no reason to fear,” she whispered. “The good doctor would never let any harm befall your beloved child.”

“Dr. Van Helsing is an idiot who wouldn’t know the sight of danger from a flock of lambs!” Lucy snapped, immediately regretting it when she saw the abject misery in Mina’s eyes. “I love him more than almost anyone else on this watery world, but he doesn’t suspect Dracula of any wrongdoing, much less his evil intent.”

“There is no evil intent,” Mina said as she lowered Lucy to her back and drew the quilt over her trembling shoulders. “I promise, no man, woman, or creature could ever want to harm Aubrey.”

“That’s a lie and you know it! Why are you lying to me?” Lucy yelled before covering her mouth with the back of her wrist. Soft footsteps indicated that Jonathan had drawn near the door, but dared not enter. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “I know you mean no harm.”

“Aubrey’s danger has passed,” Mina said as she smoothed Lucy’s hair. “He has loving parents now.”

“But mine has not,” she supplied the words her friend dare not say. 

“I do not know. Perhaps it has and you’ll feel better in the morning.” She reached over to the bedside to grab a glass of water. “With food and water…” 

Lucy shook her head at the offering. The guilt pricked along her spine as she saw Mina deflate in front of her. “I cannot.”

“You must,” she gently insisted. Lucy shook her head again. “You are a nurse. You know how important this is for your recovery!”

“I don’t think––”

“You will.” Mina said, warm hand on Lucy’s chilly cheek. “You must.” A desperation filled her voice that Lucy had seldom heard. She closed her eyes as Mina pressed their foreheads together. “I wouldn’t wish to bear my life without you.”

Something in Lucy’s chest lurched. Her plans of confession and action were this to go wrong suddenly seemed impossible to carry out if she didn’t understand what her life would be like. Perhaps there could be some small comfort in knowing that if she must be cursed by Dracula, there was nowhere on earth or in the stars that he could go where she wouldn’t follow.

“I will try,” Lucy conceded. “For you. For you and for Aubrey.” Her voice barely filled the space between their lips. Mina nodded and brushed a tear from her cheek with the pad of her thumb. Her other hand rubbed small circles into her hairline. “Mina, may we sleep?”

Tiredness hung heavy in Lucy’s limbs even as Mina curled beside her. A glance through the window told her that the last vestiges of pink were fleeing from the sky. The color sat on Mina’s cheeks instead. 

“But you will eat in the morning?” She asked, half question, half command. 

“I will,” Lucy whispered with the shade of a half-smile across her lips. Mina clasped her between her palms as she committed herself to the dominion of rest. 

Lucy did not fall asleep, but she allowed herself to be comforted by the steady rise and fall of Mina’s breathing and the warmth radiating from her skin. Even as the dark blue canopy of night and stars hung draped over her eyes, still she could not sleep. She took her only solace from the joy she gained by basking in the unconscious glow of Mina’s affection. When she closed her eyes, she saw Mina’s lips and felt her hands twine about her waist, settling over her hips. Her hands drifted over swatches of petalsoft skin and dipped into the curve of her back.

Beneath her fingertips, Mina’s flesh broke away into ashen, greying flakes that coated Lucy’s hands in dust. Her eyes gleamed red and hollow and too many sharp teeth filled her devilish grin. Her long nails cut into Lucy’s sides and drew blood as she pulled her into a bruising, bleeding kiss. No matter how hard she fought, Mina’s grip remained ironclad. She sunk her fangs into the tender part of Lucy’s neck, beneath her jaw, and suckled like a lamb. It felt nice, divinely so, and she would have been content to be murdered by her love, but she caught the sight of round brown eyes and a mop of curly hair looking on in horror. 

Lucy forced her eyes open and quickly disentangled herself from Mina’s gentle grasp. A fear fueled second wind swept her out of the bed and down the hall before she could fully grasp what she was doing. She tiptoed past Jonathan’s room and grabbed Quincy’s knife that still lay on the dining room table. 

The cobblestone street was cold against Lucy’s bare feet and every bit of dirt and grime bore into her tender skin. The knife felt light and easy in her hand, as if it were sculpted from moonbeams. Logically, Lucy had no idea where she was going, and yet she did. A carnal urge for blood and vengeance drove her like a marionette towards her final goal. Her feet turned inwards and every muscle in her legs ached as she supported herself on a lightpost. Staring up at the apartment, she caught the hulking silhouette of her prey in the window light. 

She crawled up the steps on her hands and knees and leaned her weight on the door. She pounded on the wood with the heel of her hand until the skin burst and a weak trail of blood ran down her wrist. 

Dracula grabbed her by her nightgown and pulled her inside. “Will you shut up?” He hissed. “It’s a miracle that your flailing didn’t wake either of them up.”

“You,” Lucy growled as she started quietly opening and closing doors, searching desperately for the one that imprisoned Dr. Van Helsing and Aubrey. “I should flay you alive for what you’ve done to us.”

“But you won’t,” Dracula said easily. “Because you’re dear doctor is quite fond of me, is he not?”

Lucy turned the knife on him and backed him into a corner. “Where are they?” She demanded. 

“Bold of you to assume you can kill me with that little thing,” he laughed, even as his back was pressed against the wall. 

“I don’t need to kill you. I just need it to hurt.” Lucy hissed as she held the blade to throat. She didn’t leave a mark, but he winced away nonetheless. “You wouldn’t flinch if you weren’t afraid of it. Where are they?”

“That door,” Dracula muttered with a flick of his wrist. “There aren’t that many. You could have just tried it.” But Lucy wasn’t paying attention and stormed into the room to find Dr. Van Helsing and Aubrey sleeping soundly in the bed. Dr. Van Helsing’s arm was crossed protectively across the child’s back and Aubrey’s little hands clutched the front of his shirt. Contented smiles accompanied the rise and fall of their breathing.

Dracula glided past her and stopped at the head of the bed, running a hand through Aubrey’s curls. Lucy almost put the knife through his eye right then and there. He raised a single finger to his lips. “You wouldn’t wake my sleeping boy, would you?”

Lucy saw red and stormed out of the room, hoping that he would follow. When he did and shut the door, she was on him in an instant. “If you so much as lay an eye on him, I’ll take it right out of your skull,” she growled, one hand clutched around the hilt of the knife, the other steadying her on the table.

“And why would I have a reason to hurt him?” Dracula asked, put-on, sweet words grating on Lucy’s ears. 

“I know what you are, you bloodsucking leech.” She jabbed the knife at his ribs, but he only smiled, revealing a mouth full of too many teeth. 

“It takes one to know one, my dear.” His sweet breath dripped around Lucy’s eyes like smog. A strong hand gripped her waist and forced their faces mere centimeters apart. 

“I’ll dog you forever,” Lucy spat. “You’ve created an enemy you can never escape.”

“Then so be it. I’ve created you.” He locked his other hand on her jaw and drew her throat to his teeth. 

Lucy tried to fight, but the exhaustion left her arms and legs feeble and useless. She clawed slashes into his cheek with her nails but it did little to distract him from his suckling. He held her flush against his chest so she could hardly move or breathe. His thumb passed over her lips and she couldn’t even find the strength to bite it. 

Black splotches danced across her vision when Dracula was done with her. Lucy collapsed to her knees and tried to crawl to the door. “Please don’t hurt them. Please, please, please,” she slurred nonsensically. She pitched forward and barely caught herself before her head cracked against the ground. 

“Ever the martyr, aren’t you?” Dracula laughed.

“Please don’t let me hurt them.” Lucy tried to claw herself standing against the arm of the couch, but her head spun and she could already feel her grip on consciousness slipping. 

Dracula kneeled next to her as the last traces of color faded from her face. “You may sleep now, Lucy.”


	10. Wednesday, 04/05/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helsing donates blood. Mina starts a gang. Lucy wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for any fluctuations in our posting schedule. As always, please let us know what you think! We always value feedback––kudos and comments really help us share our work and improve!

Abraham stirred slightly as the morning light pricked his eyes from sleep, burrowing his face into the comforting dark of the quilts. He tightened his grip around the person beside him, the scent of fresh cotton clothes vastly more welcome than the smell of aged bedsheets he was so used to at the hotel.

It was moments later that his mind registered that the person whom he was holding was far too large to be Aubrey. He woke with a start, pulling away to the far side of the bed. It was with the utmost horror that he found Mr. Dracula beside him, fully dressed and alert as ever.

“I am so sorry,” Abraham managed to choke out. He glanced desperately for Aubrey, and found him playing quietly on the carpet by the foot of the bed. He had been dressed and his hair was brushed. When he looked up at Abraham, his big blue eyes were unalarmed.

“It’s quite alright,” Mr. Dracula said with a slight smile. He leaned forward slightly, dropping his voice low enough that Aubrey might not hear. “I am more than at ease in the affectionate company of other men.”

Abraham felt himself blush crimson, suddenly quite unable to come up with anything even remotely intelligent to say. “I see,” Abraham finally managed. “That’s...a relief.” He added weakly, unsure of whether or not he was lying.

“I brought up some breakfast for Mr. Aubrey,” Mr. Dracula said lightly, reclining further against the pillows. It was with uneasiness that Abraham noted that his collar was undone to the fourth button, revealing the ivory-like skin of his neck and chest. “We had an unexpected visitor last night, and I’ve opted to provide her with privacy.”

“Visitor? Who?” Abraham asked, shaking off the unseemly interest his mind and body had taken in Mr. Dracula’s state of relative undress.

“A certain Miss Westenra,” Mr. Dracula said quietly. Abraham felt himself pale, motivated to his feet in an instant. The world swam about him, however, and he found that he stumbled even as he simply stood still. He cringed as he felt Mr. Dracula catch him gently around the waist, supporting him as his blood pressure resumed its normal course to his brain.

“...Thank you,” Abraham mumbled, dizzy both from the low blood pressure and from the sweet tingling sensation where Mr. Dracula’s lithe hands held him fast. “I have to go attend to her,” he stuttered out.

“I’ll help you down the stairs,” Mr. Dracula offered earnestly, not releasing his grip.

“One of us must stay with Aubrey,” Abraham said with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to scare him if Lucy is unwell.”

“I’ll instruct him to stay,” Mr. Dracula urged. “He’s a good boy, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself on the stairs.” He smiled softly at him and Abraham could swear he felt his heart bottom out. “Look at you, Abraham. You can hardly stand, let alone walk a flight of stairs.” 

“Fine,” Abraham conceded. “You may walk me down the stairs, but I insist you come back up and sit with Aubrey.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Mr. Dracula grinned, odd teeth almost unnoticeable beside the surety and charm of his eyes. Abraham caught his breath as Mr. Dracula guided him from the room, one arm still wrapped firmly around his middle. His delicate fingers rested lower on his hip than was remotely proper, but Abraham found it impossible to convince himself to complain. His head was filled with a mix of worry and the pink haze of pleasure at the same time, making it substantially harder to remember how his feet worked and where he’d left his medical kit.

The scene was worse than he had imagined. Lucy was there, draped over the sofa under a couple of blankets. There was a waxy paleness to her skin that Abraham associated solely with the last stages of a mortal fever. He broke from Mr. Dracula as quickly as he could, crossing the entryway to where she lay in moments.

“Lucy?” He asked, brushing her hair from her face. He withdrew his hand suddenly at the chill of her skin. “Oh, God, please don’t let her be dead,” he said desperately. He checked her pulse and found it faint but present, fluttering like the wingbeats of a butterfly.

“She was unwell when she came last night--” Mr. Dracula started.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Abraham snapped over his shoulder. “She could die! How long was she left without medical attention?”

“I figured that rest was her best option, Doctor,” Mr. Dracula said, soothing even in the harshness of Abraham’s tone.

“She seems anemic to me,” Abraham said as he focused away from Mr. Dracula. He pressed a finger hard against her hand and frowned as there was no sign of blood flow. “Hand me my medical bag,” he instructed. He watched as Mr. Dracula gave him an odd look, though he complied and brought over the bag.

“What are you going to do for her?” Mr. Dracula asked, placing the bag beside him.

“A blood transfusion,” Abraham said firmly.

“Is that not risky?” Mr. Dracula asked, handsome brow furrowing. “There is a one in four chance that this would cause her death.”

“If we allow her to remain this anemic, she will certainly die,” Abraham said firmly.

“Who do you intend to use as a donor?” Mr. Dracula asked. Abraham met his dark eyes, which seemed earnest in their concern.

“Myself,” Abraham said. “I know it is suboptimal, but I can’t justify imposing such a procedure on anyone else.”

“How much blood do you intend to take?” Mr. Dracula asked. “You’ve been so unwell lately, surely someone--”

“I will draw from myself until it becomes clear that I cannot give more,” Abraham said with stiff resolve. He waited for another protest from Mr. Dracula but was met with nothing more than a furtive glance.

“Please consider finding another donor to assist you,” Mr. Dracula urged as Abraham began setting up the needles and tubing. “I fear for what will happen to your health should you become anemic.”

“I will be alright, Mr. Dracula,” Abraham said with an attempt at a reassuring smile. He set up the transfusion right away, standing above the couch so that his blood would flow into her veins and not vice versa. He braced himself against the furniture, but he was soon assisted by the strong arms of Mr. Dracula as well.

“I’m worried you’ll fall,” Mr. Dracula said quietly.

“You need to take care of Aubrey,” Abraham said, resolve weakening only slightly. “Or you may take him beck to Mina’s cottage. Either way, I do not want him left alone, nor do I want him to witness Lucy in this state.”

Abraham caught his breath as he felt Mr. Dracula stroke his side lightly as he pulled away. “I will take Mr. Aubrey back to Mina’s home, and I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he finally said. As Abraham met his eyes he could see the gentle concern in them, softening his inclination towards strictness.

As Mr. Dracula headed upstairs to fetch Aubrey, Abraham let out an audible sigh. What a week he was having. By his best estimates, it would take at least fifteen minutes before a substantial amount of blood would make it into Lucy. He could probably afford to bleed for an hour at most in his current state, even at the sluggish rate of a transfusion. He damned himself for not noticing that she was so unwell. Sure, she had seemed tired and he’d commented on it, but anemia of any kind never crossed his mind. And why would she have come so far from Ivy Cottage? Surely if she was unwell her instincts would tell her to stay close to the competent care of Mina. With a bright flash of horror, Abraham wondered if something bad had happened to Jonathan, thus necessitating that she come so far in the cold for care.

He banished the thought from his mind. No matter the case, the present state of things required a very specific course of action and he would need all of his focus in order to perform it. At worst, this transfusion would kill Lucy and possibly himself if he happened to get any amount of her blood as backwash from the tubing. At best, he would feel a bit off for a few days and Lucy would return to consciousness and slowly make improvements as her body generated new blood. He breathed a slight sigh of relief as he heard the back door to the house open and close, indicating that Aubrey was safely out of the house without having spotted him or Lucy in their compromised states. The only thing that could make this worse would be if Aubrey panicked.

All he could do now was wait for Lucy to go into shock, wake, or simply regain some heat and color. He leaned himself more firmly against the back of the couch, bracing himself just in case he lost consciousness. Soon Mr. Dracula would be back, he thought to himself. Then, at the very least, he wouldn’t have to risk potentially facing Lucy’s death alone.

* * *

When Mina awoke with the next morning’s gentle dawn, Lucy was no longer beside her. It struck a strange worry through her chest which expanded into a true fear as a quick turn of the household revealed no sign of the obviously ill woman. She attempted to inspire Johnathan with her concern but received only a mild expression of worry in reply as he wrapped her coat around her shoulders for her.

“She has almost certainly gone ahead to the hospital.” Johnathan said as Mina batted his hands away from her clasps.

“As sick as she was? I should laugh at the thought.” Mina returned with no small amount of indignation. She cast another nervous glance over the living area and towards the ajar bedroom door. “Perhaps you should wait here, Johnathan, lest she returns to an empty house.”

“While I am flattered you consider me a comforting presence to your ailing friend, I have no intention of missing out on this meeting.” Johnathan said with a hesitant stubbornness she was beginning to recognize as a permanent fixture of his manner. Of all the attributes Transylvania could have bestowed upon the man, naturally it would be the one which made her life more laborious. With a heavy sigh, Mina relinquished and held the door for her still reasonably helpless fiancé.

The relatively easy walk to the hospital was made infinitely harder by Johnathan’s slow gait, forcing Mina to circle back several times as her hurried pace brought her ahead of her companion. It was a highly improper sight, Mina was sure, but she was far too tightly wound to calm her pace nor her constant stream of babbling.

They reached the hospital at the exact time of their set meeting, which, in turn, necessitated a hasty advancement towards Seward’s cramped office space. Pausing before the door, Mina beat the creases out of her dress and fixed the pins in her hair.

“Am I presentable?” She asked Johnathan.

“As always.” Johnathan nodded in a manner which did nothing to assure her. “And I?”

She grimaced as she let her eyes drift slowly over Johnathan’s sallow cheeks and rumpled collar. “You are well.” She lied as she raised a hand to the door.

She stepped away and, in a fit of worry, grasped Johnathan’s hand tightly. Both parties smiled bright as newly-weds as the door swung open to reveal a miraculously cheered Seward. “Nurse Murray, Mr. Harker, please come in.” He ushered them into the office and closed the door. Once they were securely sealed inside their wooden tomb, Seward swept a hand towards his cluttered desk. “May I have the pleasure of introducing you to my dear companions, Mr. Holmwood,” the blond man offered a pleasantly removed smile, “and Mr. Morris,” the other man, a wildly grinning brunette, reclined with his feet on the desk, waved.

“Quincy.” Johnathan blinked. “Why, I haven’t seen you since college.”

“You two are previously acquainted?” Mina asked as she surveyed the scruffy man with more care. She could not imagine a single circumstance which could have led to her prim and softhearted fiancé fraternizing with such a rough man. As Morris rose to tug Johnathan into an overly affectionate embrace, however, the subject of their shared qualities revealed itself in full.

Giving the now amicably chatting men a wide berth, Mina joined Seward by his filing cabinet. “Seward,” she dropped her voice to a sweetly-disguised whisper, “I believe I instructed you to bring only those you felt may be helpful to our cause.”

“As I have.” Seward replied indignantly. “Mr. Holmwood is of the highest monetary stock and Mr. Morris, a magnificent shooter and prime survivalist; both aspects beneficial to our current work. Furthermore, they exist as my closest and most trustworthy friends. I would swear by their abilities even to the point of my own death.”

Mina cast a doubtful look upon the motley crew, which had since moved beyond hugs and into a passionate examination of Morris’ knives.

“They appear...” Morris sheaved the knife into the air, missing Holmwood’s left ear by mere centimeters, “ill-prepared.”

“They are spirited.” Seward admitted. “Quincy most of all. But their hearts remain in the right place and each is eager to do whatever should be done to rid Whitby of this looming threat.”

“Spirited as they may be,” Mina cautioned, “do they understand the extent of our troubles?”

The meagerly laid peace on Seward’s face slipped away in an instant, revealing the sullen stone so often hidden beneath. “Do you?” He asked, voice tinged with equal parts disdain and earnest curiosity.

Mina narrowed her eyes upon him. “Perhaps.” She answered as vaguely as possible.

As Seward raised an eyebrow to her, Mina cleared her throat and returned focus to the amassing of men before her. “Gentlemen, if I may have your attention.” Once she had guaranteed every eye rested upon her, she raised herself to her full height and authority. “As I’m sure we are all aware, we face a tremendous threat not only to our own lives but to the very fabric of our society. As it stands--”

Morris raised his hand.

Mina paused. “Yes, Mr. Morris?”

“Yeah, I don’t actually know what the threat is.” The man spoke through a hefty Texan accent and a witless smile. “Or why we’re here. Or what’s going on in general.”

Holmwood tipped his head to one side in apparent agreement to the statement.

Mina stood flabbergasted. “Did Seward not inform you of the nature of our mission?”

“Jack told us to come.” Holmwood shrugged. “Ergo, we came.”

Mina shook her head. “While I appreciate your loyalty, Mr. Holmwood, I wish it hadn’t been adopted so blindly. This is, as I said previously, an extremely delicate and, in fact volatile situation. Lives could be on the line. Foremost the dear doctor Van Helsing and fair Lucy Westenra.”

All the men in the room, with the exception of her own Johnathan, immediately perked up at the name. Ah, she had nearly forgotten the gaggle of young and eligible suitor’s her dear friend’s beauty had thus inspired. Faced now with the impossible realization that she ranked among this merry gang of longing fools, she pressed a hand to her forehead to alleviate the oncoming headache. “I take it she has given you no answer as of yet?” The bitter words tore from Mina’s throat before they could be quelled by edict.

“Alas, no such luck,” Holmwood replied for the assembled.

Mina cast a long look between the three men as to ascertain her own conclusions. “Are you three…” she trailed. “Do you not resent each other’s interference?”

A meaningful yet incomprehensible look was passed between the men. To the left of their silent council, Johnathan shifted his chair as if to provide physical distance between himself and that disease called lovesickness.

“We have agreed that Nurse Westenra should be given every chance to make her own decision.” Holmwood spoke calmly.

“We’re still friends regardless of Lucy’s choice.” Morris smiled with all his teeth.

“Or lack thereof.” Seward grumbled.

Mina tapped her fingers against a seam of her coat as she debated the wisdom of furthering this conversation. “Very well.” She spoke under a current of fragile calm. “I can appreciate such a course of action and thusly wish each of you the best of luck in your endeavors. At present, however, there is the monster.”

“Monster?” Holmwood asked. His voice was patterned with trepidation.

“A monster indeed.” Mina nodded. “A fiend horrible beyond the imaginations of men if stories and encounters are to be believed.”

“And who tells these tall tales?” Morris asked.

With expectancy, Mina and Seward turned their eyes upon Johnathan, who stiffened in place. Mina nodded encouragingly and matched the pale smile given with one of her own as Johnathan rose.

“My love speaks only truth,” Johnathan supported himself against the chair’s backing. “The Count...Mr. Dracula is not a man to be trusted or indeed a man at all. He is the creature of our many horrors and future sorrows, the vile villain of this maddening morning, the bane soon to crush all of Britain beneath his weight. He is faster, stronger, smarter, and more cunning than any of us. He can, to our limited knowledge, appear in many diverse forms, taking the appearance of both man and beast. Furthermore, he has no need for rest, which renders him a near unstoppable force. He is--”

“A vampire?” Morris supplied.

Each eye turned on him with inquisitive concern.

Morris smiled with an oddly vacant intelligence. “Miss Westenra mentioned an intent to slaughter the blood suckers among us at our last encounter.”

“Quincy,” Holmwood stressed, “she said nothing of the sort.”

“Perhaps not but the desire was in her eyes.” Morris said, excited as a young schoolboy.

“Regardless,” Mina fought her surprise long enough to interrupt, “we battle a fiend now.” She faced Morris and Holmwood. “Are you prepared to join us in this quest? Whatever the cost, be it limb or life?”

In spite of the trepidation evident in his eyes, Holmwood took to his feet. “As we said, Jack called us.”

“And thus we came.” Morris finished his thought.

Seward, mirthless in his stance and exhausted in his soul, produced a smile for the benefit of his friends, the first honest one Mina had ever seen of him. It sat strange on his naturally drooping face. Strange but ultimately welcome. In a fit of camaraderie, Mina clasped a hand on the man’s shoulder. For a brief moment, she could clearly picture herself working among these men, entrusting them with her fears and doubts, a collective against the greater evil.

Whatever confidence she had mastered of the situation, however, fell to the wayside as Holmwood cleared his throat. “Under what role will you work, Miss Murray?”

Mina frowned as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Johnathan wince. “How do mean, Mr. Holmwood?” She asked sharply.

“Well, are you to be our secretary in this escapade? A nurse in case of injury?” Holmwood commented, unaware of the gravity of his words.

Mina felt herself bristle and burn. “I am to be--”

“Our leader.” A voice supplied.

Mina froze. She looked first to Johnathan, who righteously appeared as shocked as she, then to Seward, who kept his arms crossed before himself.

“Am I correct?” He asked with no small measure of distaste evident in his drawl. “I could see no other solution to this matter given that you hold our collective knowledge within your grasp and have so far made all the calls to arms.”

“I…” she hesitated, though, upon sensing the expectation resting on her shoulders, pushed on, “that is correct. Until such time as one more competent on the matter may be produced, I shall lead this cause.”

“Here, here!” Morris cheered.

“Indeed.” Johnathan agreed. He smiled in apparent pride as the less enthused of the crowd mumbled grudging concessions.

An hour passed from thence, populated predominantly by the passing of information, tales of woe, and overlapping reports on the state of the hospital and its victims. As Mina walked away from the bundle of amicably chattering men which composed her newest confidants, she felt simultaneously supreme confidence in the state of her world and devastating unrest.

Unrest, however, quickly gave way to panic as she spotted the fiend of her nightmares standing upon the stoop. At once glad she had left Johnathan at the hospital, she came to a halt several meters from him.

“Mr. Dracula,” she funneled false calm into her tone, “how may I help you this evening?”

Like a whirling wind, Dracula faced her, revealing the child situated in his grasp.

“Aubrey!” Mina cried. She rushed forward at once and, heedless of the danger, scooped the boy from Dracula’s grasp. The movement jostled the poor thing greatly and he woke with a start, clutching tight to Mina’s blouse. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Peace, Nurse Murray.” Dracula spoke as a gentleman even as his eyes betrayed a supreme disinterest in her general existence. “I am merely here to relieve the good doctor of Aubrey. He has requested you take care of him for a short while.”

“Why?” Mina asked, knowing it unlikely Van Helsing had parted from his child so easily.

“He is unwell.” Dracula straightened his coat and leaned forward to pat Aubrey on the head even as Mina sought to shield him. “I must return to his side now. Good day, Aubrey, Nurse.”

She watched his progression with fearful and bated breath even as Aubrey, still unfamiliar with her hold, squirmed in her grasp.

“Where’s Mr. Dracula going?” Aubrey asked sadly.

“I do not know.” Mina answered truthfully. She caught herself and placed Aubrey on the ground. “Come,” she held out a hand. “Let us wait for the doctor and Lucy’s returns together. I have a meal ready for us in the kitchen.”

She led the boy inside and locked the door tight.

* * *

Lucy’s hazy return to consciousness was marked by the sudden realization that Dr. Van Helsing was attached to her with a tube. Her head was too foggy and her limbs too heavy to make any sense of it. She expected to be able to hear his mellow, reassuring voice, that whatever had happened wasn’t the end of the world, but in the back of her sleep addled mind, she knew it wasn’t true. It was the end of her world.

Lucy took stock of her surroundings and groaned to find herself still stuck in Dracula’s dank, little apartment. The polished, oaken furniture and the velvet curtains made her want to wretch. The only thing that drew her from her self-pitying stupor was the sight of Dr. Van Helsing collapsed above her.

In her haste and panic, Lucy couldn’t remember how to properly remove transfusion tubes, so she pulled them out of both of their arms. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew she needed to stop his bleeding or else he wouldn’t wake up. She ran across the room and fumbled around in some cabinets until she found a stash of bandages. Even though her fingers were clumsy and her skill, spotty, anything was better than nothing at this point.

“Doctor?” She asked as she positioned him on the couch where she once lay. He was truly out cold and didn’t answer. Now that the adrenaline was fading from her body, she felt light headed and woozy. Through the shade of silence, she realized that both Dracula and Aubrey were not in the house.

Lucy took the given time, however short it may be, to give her dear doctor a thorough once over. Though he bore many marks of illness, there was not a single injury that could have drawn blood. There were no cuts or incisions on the neck or otherwise that would suggest that Dracula had been feeding on him they way he had with her. As much as Lucy was loathe to admit it, he was probably better off here with Dracula if his health was really that poor.

Lucy forced herself to her feet and walked to the table where Quincy’s knife lay. Dr. Van Helsing might not be Dracula’s prey, but she still was. Even if the cool of her knife wouldn’t kill him, it would give her enough time to escape.

“Well, it seems like you have woken up after all,” a dark voice cooed as Lucy startled and held the knife in front of her. It appeared that she might have to use it earlier than she expected.

“If you take a step closer I will cut your eyes out, leech!” She hissed.

“And I see being thrust to the doors of death did little to calm your overly feisty attitude,” Dracula sighed as he leaned on the doorframe. “Listen, Nurse Westenra. As much as I would love to finish what we have started, I’m afraid our dear doctor needs some attending and you are hardly the one fit to do it.”

In her heart, Lucy knew it was true, but she bristled at the notion of her incompetence. She circled around Dracula like a vixen guarding her kits, letting her gaze and posture snarl where her throat could not. “How do I know you won’t eat him?” She growled. “You’re grooming him to be the perfect prey.”

“I am not going to harm him because he is not a rabid bitch,” Dracula huffed as he entered the room where Dr. Van Helsing was sleeping. “Besides, I don’t prefer sweets.”

Lucy wanted to wretch and it wasn’t just because she had a new batch of Abraham’s blood flowing through her veins.

“He doesn’t know what you intend,” Lucy spat. “He’s never given a thought to it. Your efforts are entirely wasted on a man so devoted to his science.” Dracula said nothing, but pushed Dr. Van Helsing’s sweaty hair away from his eyes. “You don’t deserve him.”

“Neither do you,” Dracula retorted.

“No one does.”

“Then I’m glad we are finally in some agreement, Nurse Westenra,” he said as he gathered a glass of water for when the good doctor awoke. “Now, answer me this. If you are so convinced that I am a vampiric evil incarnate--”

“You are.”

“I am. Then why do you insist on staying in this house when you are clearly not wanted?” Dracula said softly, almost gently. “There is nothing to stop me from killing you again and there won’t be a sweet doctor to save you this time.”

“I will not leave my  friend  alone to fall victim to you. And I will most certainly not leave my child to your clutches. I would sooner let myself die a thousand painful deaths than watch you hurt those I love.”

“Lucy,” Dracula sighed. “When will you realize I have standards? Your doctor and the child, not  your child, mind you, are safe in my house. I want as much as anyone for them to remain in good health.” He closed his eyes and wandered back to Dr. Van Helsing’s side. “Besides, I have already brought little Aubrey back to Ivy Cottage. He should be resting with Nurse Murray by now. You should go and be with him. He misses you very much.”

Lucy’s heart softened as she gazed back at Dr. Van Helsing. His serene face was calm, even under Dracula’s touch. “Why?” She asked. “Why me? Why us? Why couldn’t you have just kept to your dark little castle in the woods?”

Dracula walked over to Lucy and put his hand on her shoulder, but before he could answer, Lucy panicked and stabbed him in the chest. He crumpled to the floor and silently bore the wound which leaked inky ichor through his fingers.

Lucy ran and didn’t stop running until she reached Ivy Cottage. It was the type of running where she couldn’t feel the muscles in her legs working. It was like flying or falling. Lucy was almost surprised when she found herself in Mina’s drawing room. There were the pleasantly neutral sounds of her, Aubrey, and Jonathan coming from deeper within the house.

Now that Lucy couldn’t panic, she felt herself becoming faint from the blood that was rushing in her ears. She tried to take a couple steps towards the kitchen, but hit her thigh against the table and knocked over a glass as she tried and failed to catch herself.

“Dr. Van Helsing?” Mina asked as she came closer. “Lucy?”

Lucy closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to meet Mina’s. The entirety of her experience must have been written across her face. She didn’t need to mirror to know that she had grown waxy pale with dark rings around her eyes. She looked like death or undeath or whatever granite-hard grips of vampirism that were near to clutching out her heart.

“Good heavens!” Mina exclaimed as she rushed to Lucy’s side. “What the devil has happened to you? Where did you go?” She asked, straightening her dressing gown. Lucy hadn’t realized how dirty her clothing had become and how wild her hair.

“I…” She tried to speak, but found she had not the words. “I don’t...I…”

Wordlessly, Mina took Lucy’s arm and led her to the couch where she had to be urged to sit. She tried to pull away, but Lucy had a vice grip around her elbow. As the frothing waves of desperation tore their way down her throat, she felt her grasp of reality waining like fog. “Don’t leave me alone,” she whispered, unaware of the flaking layers of blood that came off in her voice. “Please, please don’t leave me alone with him again.”

“Lucy, I don’t understand.” Mina did not try to pull away again and busied herself with combing her friend’s hair.

She couldn’t even allow herself to revel in the gentle touch. “I’m sorry I did not listen to you.” She buried her head against her shoulder and felt the gentle rise and fall of Mina’s breathing against her cheek. “But he took Aubrey and Abraham and it was a trap for me! And now I’m lost and there’s nothing you can do to save me!” Lucy shivered as she descended into the icy depths of hysterics. Suddenly aware of the intensity of the situation, she pushed away from Mina and was forced to stare into her luminous eyes. “No! I take it back! Don’t come near me! I don’t know what it feels like and what if this is it?! What if--”

Mina took Lucy’s face gently in her hands and turned her jaw to reveal the two grisly puncture wounds on the tender part of her throat. She ran the pad of her thumb over the incisions and Lucy shuddered under the lightness of her touch.

“Please,” Lucy said as she shot to her feet before crumpling back into Mina’s arms. “I’ll go, just keep Aubrey safe.”

“No,” Mina said, her voice and spirit steeled against the worst. “There is no quantifiable evidence that this bite from Mr. Dracula has somehow transformed you into a vampire.”

“There is. This is how he means it,” Lucy all but sobbed.

“Well, how he means it is not in any way indicative of reality. Mr. Dracula does not have dominion over science, even if he may wish it so. You yourself have seen the anemic patient that have been victims to his will. You yourself know that they have not become vampires.” Mina sighed and drew Lucy into a tight hug. “These are early days for you. With enough good food and clean water, I’m confident you will make a full recovery.”

Lucy clung to her friend’s shoulders and wept into her chest. It had been far too long since she had cried in earnest, and now the tears came unbidden like rain from a storm cloud. Mina seemed content to hold her as she wept out her fear and anguish.

“Lucy?” Aubrey asked as he crept into the living room. He crawled on the couch and into the lap. “Why are you sad?”

She tried to respond, but the words that formed in her mind refused to come out her throat.

“Lucy has had a very hard day and was very worried about you and Dr. Van Helsing,” Mina explained. Lucy cuddled Aubrey close to her chest and could feel his little heart beating strongly in his ribs.

“I love you,” She whispered into his soft clean hair, sparing a glance towards Mina. “I love you very much.”


	11. Chapter XI: Thursday  04/06/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham discovers deviancy. Mina enforces her womanhood. Lucy starts shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, we love kudos, comments, and constructive criticisms!

He was cold when he woke up. Abraham curled into a ball for warmth, pulling the heavy blankets even tighter around himself, and he would have gone back to sleep if not for the hand he felt run through his hair.

“Are you awake?” An all-too familiar voice asked. 

“Yes,” Abraham said quietly, not shifting onto his other side nor opening his eyes. 

“You nearly bled to death,” Mr. Dracula said, fingers still stroking his hair. “It gave Nurse Westenra and I quite a fright.” 

“She’s okay?” Abraham asked, finally uncurling and rolling over so that he could see Mr. Dracula’s face. He was illuminated by the warm glow of an oil lamp, adding some color to his normally pale cheeks. 

“It would appear so,” Mr. Dracula said quietly. “But what you should worry about now is yourself.” 

“Right,” Abraham sighed. He tried to sit up, but the action immediately set the room spinning. Without thinking, he gripped Mr. Dracula’s forearm for support. 

“Lay down,” Mr. Dracula whispered, guiding him back down against the pillows. “You’ve lost rather a lot of blood, and you were unwell before.” 

“Yes…” Abraham said as he was tucked back under the blankets. “I fear I’m overstaying my welcome,” he added weakly, glancing up at his host. 

Mr. Dracula lay on his side so that the two of them were on the same eye level, creating a much more intimate space than Abraham was really expecting. Nerves danced in his stomach like sparks from a fire and he was sure that the dizziness he felt wasn’t just due to anemia. The sensations only compounded when Mr. Dracula held a hand to his cheek.

“You are welcome here,” Mr. Dracula whispered. 

“I fear this is inappropriate for a teacher and a student,” Abraham said stiffly, though no amount of formality could chase the blush from his cheeks. 

“We are not teacher and student here,” Mr. Dracula said softly, pulling him closer against him. Abraham was sure he should be horrified by the boldness, or at least by the knowledge that his appearance was almost certainly abysmal up this close, but instead he found himself still. Instead of horror or disgust there was only interest and an embarrassing situation below the belt.

“But we will be,” Abraham said weakly. “I don’t even know what to call you besides Mr. Dracula. I don’t know your first name.” 

“Vlad,” Dracula supplied easily. “Though I am most used to being called, of all things, Dracula. No title necessary.” 

“Dracula, then,” Abraham said with a fragile smile. “I suppose in all fairness I ought to go by Helsing.” 

“I can call you Abraham, if you prefer,” Dracula said, pressing himself closer still. “I’ll call you anything you want.” 

Abraham balked at the sudden lack of space between them, certain that given the way things stood now, all it would take would be a shift of a leg and his secret would be out in the open. It was only made that much worse when Dracula stroked his cheek. 

“I’m not well,” Abraham managed to say. “I may be ill.” 

“You won’t get me sick,” Dracula said confidently. In an instant there was not even a centimeter left between them, and Dracula was propped up on one arm over him. 

“What are you doing?” Abraham asked in a whisper, panic gripping him as reality suddenly crashed against him. Only twenty-five years ago such deviancy would have gotten them both killed. Even now, though they may live, Abraham knew his license could be at stake and that one or both of them could be sent to jail or to an asylum. 

“I worry about you,” Dracula whispered, bending down closer to his face. The orange glow of the lamp set his eyes an unnerving crimson. “I don’t typically worry about people.” 

“I’m sorry,” Abraham said, more breath than speech. 

“You do realize why I took you where I did for our dinner, so many nights ago?” Dracula asked earnestly. His fingers traced his brow bone, cool against Abraham’s feverish skin. 

“I’m sorry,” Abraham said again. “I really don’t. I— We could be in a lot of danger.” 

“Would you like me to let you go?” Dracula asked, voice low but honest. Abraham thought it over for a second time. Of all the places, a private home far from the center of town was likely the safest place to be...indisposed. 

“I don’t know,” Abraham finally said, blushing pink at his own words.

“Have you ever?” Dracula asked, gleaming eyes turning curious. “With anyone?” 

“No,” Abraham admitted. “I...intimacy was never one of my longings.” 

“But surely you must have thought about it?” Dracula asked, a playful smile twisting at the corners of his mouth. 

“Never so specifically…” Abraham muttered. “It’s always been a more...clinical matter to me. Like all physiological needs.” 

Like a hawk looking at prey, Dracula was upon him. Though they weren’t yet joined at the lips, Dracula’s fingers tangled in his hair and Abraham caught his breath as he felt Dracula’s knee settle between his legs, adding the slightest bit of friction and pressure to his already-aching cock. “I could show you that there’s more to life than physiology,” Dracula whispered against his cheek, breath cool and strangely sweet. 

“You could get sick,” was all Abraham managed to say. “I— I work in a phthisis ward all day, and in a lab at night, and God knows what else lives in the psychiatric—” 

He was cut off by a hard kiss on the lips, something he was neither prepared for nor practiced in. Like his breath, Dracula’s mouth was mildly sweet. Like the sugar water he occasionally mixed into medicine for children. When Dracula pulled away, he was gasping.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the night I took you out,” Dracula said calmly. His hands were gentle in his hair, stroking along his hairline as Abraham caught his breath. 

“I’ve never thought about doing that to anyone in my life,” Abraham finally managed. Something dark caught his eye; a wet spot of black on Dracula’s shirt. “Dracula, are you alright?” 

“Ah, yes,” Dracula said, glancing down. “Ink spill. I tripped coming up the stairs with an open jar.” 

“Oh, I’ve done that,” Abraham smiled, happy to have a topic he understood. 

“I’m sure you have,” Dracula smiled. His eyes flickered slightly as one of his hands moved down, settling by Abraham’s stomach. “Would you like me to help you with this?”

“What do you mean?” Abraham said, comfort wavering.

“I mean, there are things two people can do with one another to relieve such urges,” Dracula purred, his hand cupping his groin through his pants. “I would be more than happy to oblige,” he added. 

“It will go away on its own,” Abraham said, shifting slightly. “I...think I might prefer to wait. This evening has been enlightening, to be sure, but…” he trailed off, feeling mildly ashamed of his maidenlike bashfulness and inexperience. He glanced back to Dracula, expecting him to look displeased or otherwise irritated, but his expression was soft.

“Would you prefer to be alone, or would you like for me to stay?” Dracula asked gently, removing his hand from its place between his legs. A part of Abraham did feel mildly disappointed with himself, but the majority felt tired.

“If...everything is out in the open, I would prefer for you to stay,” Abraham said quietly. “If that’s no trouble, that is. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“It would be my pleasure,” Dracula smiled, settling back beside him. Abraham, like the schoolgirl he was, clung to him slightly as he changed positions. Now that the brand-new threat of sex was out of the way, along with the semblence of professionalism, all he wanted was to be held close. Dracula seemed more than willing to comply, folding him securely under his arm.

“How old are you?” Abraham asked quietly. He would have to cut this off now if Dracula was his junior.

“Older than you,” Dracula said confidently.

“You don’t know how old I am,” Abraham said, though he relaxed against him slightly.

“How old are you?” Dracula asked. 

“Twenty-nine.” 

“I am older than you,” Dracula said again. 

“You’re in your thirties?” Abraham mumbled, exhaustion beginning to take him over. It was easy to be soothed into sleep as Dracula stroked his hair.

“I suppose so,” Dracula said lightly, but Abraham was already halfway asleep. He would analyze this tomorrow, once he had more blood and more rest. But for now he was content to be a deviant, if that was what he really was.

* * *

The morning came, light and luxurious as a summer’s breeze, with golden haze spilling through the window sill and transforming the edges of Lucy’s hair to a burning blaze. Still, Mina’s eyes could not linger on Lucy’s hair nor her blushed cheeks nor the graceful taunt of her forehead, sleep mingling with deep thoughts; no, all she could fixate upon was the bite, which had turned angry red and crusted around the edges in the night. Infected, Mina supplied to herself. Infected with what, however, well, that remained to be seen. 

She wished greatly to rise and retrieve for Lucy something with which to cover the ghastly puncture but feared the other’s reaction should she go against her word and leave her alone, even for a moment. She did not want to bring more distress to her poor, exhausted love, especially since nerves had dictated that she remove little Aubrey to Johnathan’s care sometime during the night. Mina could hear them now, her companion’s soft footsteps, slow and uncertain, followed by Aubrey’s quicker padding. 

He was good with the child, Mina would admit. Her fiancée would make an excellent father if only given the chance neither wanted to offer. However, such a train of thought only reminded her of the promise she’d given to Johnathan while he had rested in the depths of vampiric despair, the promise she had yet to fulfill, and she banished it from her mind. She’d already arranged a date for the marriage and thus did not need to dwell on it until that date. March 10th was far away if she could live in this moment alone. And what an exciting moment it was, she reflected tiredly as another set of footsteps joined Johnathan and Aubrey’s. 

She waited for the knock on the door, which came imminently followed by an overly friendly face in the doorway. 

“Morning, Miss Harker,” Morris whispered, eyes flitting between Mina and her charge. 

“Miss Murray,” Mina corrected with a pointed glance towards Lucy. Morris offered a bashful smile as he took a step back. 

“‘Course, ma’am. Sorry to bother; Johnny was asking after you and Miss Westenra so I figured I’d check on you.” He kept his voice low.

“We’re alright,” Mina supplied. “And how fares my beloved and the child?”

Morris smirked. “Johnny’s jumpier than a jackrabbit but the babe’s peaceful. Wants to know when Miss Lucy will rise or Dr. Van Helsing will return, though.”

Mina grimaced. Such were questions she also wanted to know. “Tell him--” she began only to be drawn short as Lucy stirred in her arms. 

Instantly, Mina was upon her, smoothing back hair from her forehead. Lucy’s eyes fluttered open, half-mast moonbeam gaze drifting over her before settling on the doorway. 

“Quincy?” Lucy muttered in befuddlement. “What are you doing here?”

Mina began to answer but was beat to the punch as Morris quite improperly crossed into the room and sat himself down at Lucy’s bedside. “Well you see, Miss Westenra, Miss Murray and I have recently become the closest of comrades and companions,” he said cheerfully.

“We have not,” Mina sighed as Lucy offered her a confused glance. “I invited Mr. Morris over to...keep an eye on my fiancée while I attended to you. Normally I would have summoned Dr. Seward, of course, but he was preoccupied attending to Renfield when I called upon him.”

“I see,” the quaver in Lucy’s voice, evidence of her wretched evening, was not lost to Mina but nor was it commented upon. She summoned a polite smile, apparently for Morris’ benefit or else to distract him from examining her reddened neck. “Do you have a background in medicine, good sir?”

“Not precisely but I once sucked the venom of a right nasty copperhead from my own arm while galloping away from a herd of rampaging bulls so I figure that qualifies me to the level of modern medicine.”

“Well Mr. Morris,” Mina interjected. She stood, taking the man by the shoulders as she steered him from the bedroom. “It’s been lovely to have you visit but as you can well see, Miss Westenra is requiring of rest and I’m sure Johnathan is missing your company.”

Morris, not taking the hint, ducked out her grasp and seated himself on the edge of the bed. “Nonsense, ol’ Johnny can survive a few minutes without my company,” Morris said jovially. He centered his attention on the still baffled Lucy. “Is there anything I can get you, Miss Lucy? A glass of water, maybe?”

“As Miss Westnra’s acting physician, I’m sure I can take care of that,” Mina interrupted, voice tinged yellow with exasperation and nerves. “So if you would please, Mr. M--”

“I’d appreciate a gun,” Lucy overode her. 

Mina paused and offered Lucy an absolutely incredulous look as Morris gawfawled. 

“A woman after my own heart,” he grinned. “I shall see to it. Would you prefer a Colt Single Action Army or a Smith and Wesson Model 3? Or are you more of a shotgun gal?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever handled a weapon such as those,” Lucy said, leaning forward in bed to rest her elbows on her knees. “Which would you suggest?”

“I would suggest neither.” Left with few options to bring an end to the brewing madness, Mina physically interrupted the scheming pair, pulling Morris up and off the bed by the collar of his shirt. “There is absolutely no reason Lucy should be in need of--” she glared back at her firm faced friend. “There is absolutely no reason you should be in need of a gun.”

“Who’s in need of a gun?” Holmwood asked, invading the already cramped bedroom with considerably more bashfulness than Morris had but, nevertheless, invading. 

“Nobody,” Mina hissed through her teeth. “Now if you’ll please--”

“Miss Lucy is,” Morris said, gesturing to Lucy, who was in the process of attempting to pull herself from the bed. She swayed on her feet as she stood, forcing Mina to release Morris in her haste to right the stumbling woman. Once loosed, the man immediately returned to the edge of the bed, settling himself down with casual ease as a scandalized Holmwood lingered by his shoulder.

“Lucy, please, I must insist you remain in bed. You are unwell and have lost quite a bit of blood,” Mina tried to speak gently despite the obvious irritation in her tensed shoulders and taunt frown.

“And how has she lost blood?” Johnathan materialized in the doorway, brows knitted in suspicion, and any patience Mina had managed to build broke like a welling dam. 

“Gentleman,” she announced, forcibly taking to her feet, “your presence in this space is most improper and I must insist, in order to preserve Miss Westnra’s dignity as well as my own, that you take your leave now and do not return.” She aimed a glare at Morris especially. “Cease now your assault on my womanhood and be gone from my quarters.”

The words had the desired effect of rendering the rich and therefore strictly-raised Holmwood so thoroughly embarrassed as to color his cheeks. Even the more open-minded Johnathan averted his eyes from the scene, taking an aborted step towards the door. Morris, however, continued to gaze at her with that annoying air of one both too knowing and yet completely blank-minded. Mina narrowed her eyes upon him. 

After a moment’s painful pause, Johnathan cleared his throat. “Ah, Quincy, Mr. Holmwood, if I could interest you both in a cup of tea?”

Holmwood straightened at once. “How delightful!” He said loudly. “Come along, Quincy.”

He exited the room at an impressive pace, trailed by Johnathan and Morris, who, prior to leaving the room, leaned around the doorframe and shot a subtle wink at Lucy. It was through prowess alone that Mina resisted the urge to chase after him and smack him upside the head.

“Well,” Lucy said, voice light and airy in contradiction to her grave paleness. “They make interesting guests, do they not? Did you invite Arthur here to watch over Johnathan as well?”

Mina sighed and carded a hand through her disordered hair as she slumped back against the bed frame of her four poster. “They...No, I did not. It is just that Morris apparently cannot be parted from Holmwood for even a moment’s breath.”

“Quite.” Lucy said with a smirk. Rather than soothe her, however, the small revitalization of her dear friend’s soul set Mina upon her like a plague. She advanced upon Lucy, who was still propped against the bed for support.

“For what reason do you need a  _ gun _ ?” Mina repeated her question. 

Lucy pursed her lips as she fully took to her feet. “You know why.”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Mina followed Lucy to her steamer truck, looming over her as the other knelt sort through her dresses, “for unless you are planning to take up hunting, there can be no reason for you to be in possession of a deadly weapon.”

Lucy scoffed. “My lovely companion, you cannot convince me that you do not also own such a ‘deadly weapon.’”

Mina made a soft sound of admittance but rectified herself by adding, “It is my fiancée’s and furthermore, a family heirloom. I have never had need of it,”  _ to this point,  _ “and I cannot imagine a situation in which you would either.”

“You couldn’t?” Lucy asked, voice high and incredulous. “Truly?”

“No, I could not,” Mina hissed, temper suddenly overtaking her. “Considering the only scenarios which would ever necessitate the use of a weapon by your person would be in the confrontation of Dracula, who, as far as we are aware, cannot be killed by man’s power alone, or to take your own life in some fit of ludicrous self-sacrifice.”

With nary a pause, Lucy pulled a red day dress from her chest and laid it out on the bed in an apparent order for Mina to leave the room.

Mina caught her by the elbow as she moved to unwind the tie on her dressing gown, trying not to let herself be distracted by the slight reveal of skin beneath. “Lucy, did you hear me.”

“I heard you,” Lucy muttered. She gently loosened herself from Mina’s grip. “However, as I said last night, if the strain has already taken hold--”

“And we have no evidence that it has.”

Lucy shook her head. “I request the gun merely as a precaution. We do not yet know, well, anything and as long as the dear doctor is insistent on keeping Dracula’s company, it’s best to take precautions however...lacking they may be.” Her eyes, wide and fearful, shone with fervent rebellion.

Mina, on instinct, drew closer to Lucy, as if to shield her from the terrors which were so rapidly setting upon her. The slight pucker of red in the corner of her vision, however, reminded her of an important element to this reality in which they found themselves: that sometimes the enemy could lie within. Whatever guilt Mina burdened herself with in lying to Lucy departed in an instant. 

“Very well,” she snapped with venom, “if you want to throw your life away so uselessly, I can do nothing of it. Fetch yourself a gun, sign a death warrant before your grave is even dug; I want no part of this stupidity.” She stalked to the door.

“And yet you are the one who claimed your right to be stupid for love’s sake,” Lucy challenged, drawing Mina short.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There were too many answers to such a loaded statement: admissions of love, denials, delays. Yet, for all her usual assertiveness, Mina found herself lost on what needed to be heard. Or should be.

“I’m going to the hospital,” she said instead as she moved to retrieve her coat from the wardrobe. “I should take over in attending to the consumption wing for the day. You are to stay here and rest. Johnathan is around as is Morris and, apparently, Holmwood. Aubrey has been asking for you.” Mina’s voice softened by degree. “I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

Lucy seemed ready to protest. Yet, she held her tongue. “Very well,” she said. Then, “please inform me when and if Dr. Van Helsing arrives there.”

“I will,” Mina said stiffly.

She smiled at Aubrey, who was in the process of explaining what Lucy had taught him of sea shells and sponges to a fascinated Holmwood. She was intercepted by Johnathan and Morris at the door.

“Is she…” Johnthan asked carefully. He drew his fingers across his lips to indicate fangs.

Mina brushed past him. “She is well. Just in need of rest. Continue to watch Aubrey, if you will. Morris, keep watching the perimeter. I am going to see Seward.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Morris saluted sloppily.

The walk to the hospital was considerably bleak despite the pleasantness of the morning, thoughts and worries and madnesses vying to make their home in Mina’s troubled mind. Still, she reasoned, work would distract her. No, she would go and worry about strangers now; not her own friends, not her love’s dear doctor, and not Lucy...not too much anyway. 

Before the virus took hold, if indeed it did, there would be nothing left to do but wait.

Saint Mary’s large iron doors opened to greet her, familiar in their eeriness, and Mina moved to her station. Even before she had the chance to don her apron, however, a pallor and serious face swam into her field of vision.

“Nurse Murray, thank goodness,” Seward panted. Mina felt her own face pale as she noted the streaks of blood streaming out of his hairline and into his right eye. “There has been an issue with Renfield.”

* * *

The sound of Mina closing the bedroom door rang so loud that it hurt Lucy’s ears even though she knew her friend didn’t slam it. What did Mina know about the nature of Mr. Dracula? Absolutely nothing! She had not seen the pallor of Dr. Van Helsing’s face nor had she felt his fangs pierce her throat. No, this was all just an intellectual exercise that she could spin her wiles around while the rest of them got caught in the webbing. 

But then again, Lucy had been daft. She didn’t need a gun to hurt that foul monster that stalked through the shadows of the hospital. And perhaps Quincy’s knife couldn’t kill Dracula, but she could make it hurt again and again and again, forever, until he left them alone. 

Lucy pulled on her dress and struggled with the clasps on the back. The fabric pulled awkwardly at her elbows and shoulders and her fingers were too numb and fumbling to gain any sort of proper grasp.

She pulled the dress off in a huff and put her sleeping gown back on. It’s truly not like she could leave the house anyway. Despite the seething tendrils writhing in her chest, Lucy put on a pleasant face and went to find her child. And indeed he was her child, regardless of what Dracula thought. 

Before anyone else could spot her, she peered around the corner into the living room only to find Aubrey sitting with the three men, closely observing one of Quincy’s knives. 

“What in the devil’s name are you doing?” Lucy yelped as she rushed in, far faster than she thought her weakened legs were capable of moving. She snatched the boy into her arms and held him tight against her chest. “How can three fully grown men possibly think it’s acceptable to let a child play with knives?”

“Well, Miss Lucy,” Quicy said as he rubbed the back of his neck in shame. “I was just thinking that it’s good for all little boys to know how to wield a knife.”

“He is four years old,” Lucy said, baffled. Aubrey had wrapped his arms around her shoulders and smiled against her collarbone. 

“When I was four years old I wrestled an aged crocodile with nothing but my--”

“That certainly is nice, Quincy, but we don’t currently live in hell.” She glanced around at Arthur and Jonathan who were still studying the blade rather intensely. “I swear, did you gentlemen loose all your sense the moment Mina walked out the door?”

In an instant, Arthur had taken his hands away from the metal as if it had burned him. A blush spread across his cheeks and he looked positively ashamed. Lucy could almost feel sorry for the poor man, being Quincy’s chaperone apparently for the rest of eternity. 

“Perhaps it is a touch of overkill,” Arthur conceded as Quincy huffed and leaned against his shoulder. 

“Then what, pray tell my dear friend, are we supposed to do with a child for the rest of the day?” Quincy walked over to Lucy and ruffled Aubrey’s hair. “I’m sure a strapping, young fella like yourself doesn’t want to be trapped inside with books all day.”

Aubrey wriggled free from Lucy’s grasp and she giggled as he toddled around across the living room carpet. Arthur followed him around and picked up the pieces of fabric that were cut into various sea creature shapes. “He has taken quite the liking the ocean. I feel it has been from both you and Ms. Murray’s influence. He will make the most excellent naturalist when he gets bigger.” Arthur smiled pleasantly at the boy as he politely handed him a felt starfish. 

“Did you know,” Quincy said as he kneeled down next to Aubrey, bringing Arthur with him, “that before I became a cowpoke, I helped with these two fine gentlemen on a shrimping trawler in the Gulf of Mexico. You shoulda seen all the little beasties we pulled up. Little crabs and shrimpies and sometimes even big fish. Heck, one time I reeled in an entire tuna all by myself.” Quincy mimicked all of the animals as Aubrey giggled in front of him. He stole all the glances he could at a blushing Arthur. 

“I am quite certain that tuna do not--” he tried to interject. 

“And then one day, a huge storm came and swept us all around the gulf and just when I was sure the ship was sinking--” 

Aubrey perked up and sprung to his feet. “The ship is sinking!” He sang as he launched himself on top of the coffee table. Lucy picked up the cue and hopped onto the couch, taking a sleepy Jonathan by surprise. “There are sharks!” He yelled at Arthur and Quicy who looked befuddled and amused. “Scary sharks!”

“Didn’t you hear him, you buffoons?” Lucy asked, smiling when they didn’t move. “There are sharks in the water, come to safety.” 

When all the men were on other furniture pieces, Lucy gave herself fully to the act. The adults themselves did not do much jumping, but caught and guided Aubrey has he lept to and fro. He was nearly out of breath, far too soon for such a small and energetic child, by the time he had returned to clutched Lucy’s knees but she cast such thoughts from her mind. In that moment, the men, much to Arthur’s distaste, were being pirates and Lucy, a damsel in distress. While he was jumping to the table to save Lucy, as luck would have it, he slipped and fell, taking a small drinking glass with him. 

“Aubrey!” She yelled as she scooped him into her arms. After a cursory inspection there was only one, tiny piece of glass in his hand. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” she murmured into the wailing child’s hair.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He screamed, nearly incomprehensibly. “I’m a wicked boy!”

“No, you’re not,” Lucy soothed as she felt the pure, unadulterated rage build up in her chest. She focused on cleaning and binding his wound, which seemed to not phase him in the least. “It was just an accident and you’re okay. We can replace the glass. We cannot replace you.”

Aubrey seemed to hear none of it and scrambled away as soon as Lucy was finished securing the bandage.

“He came from a bad place, didn’t he,” Quincy said gravely. 

“I’m afraid so,” Lucy said without looking at him. 

Aubrey came back in record time with one of Lucy’s shoes grasped tightly in his little hands. He handed it to her and screwed his eyes shut as if she were going to strike him. “What is this?” She asked him, horrified.

“Wicked boys get punished,” he said simply.

“Well,” Lucy said as she set the shoe on the ground. “I will not strike you, nor will I allow anyone to strike you ever again. You are my child and I love you very much and I would not wish for harm to befall you.” She held out her arms and waited for Aubrey to approach her. Once he had discerned that it wasn’t a trick, he allowed himself to be held. 

Lucy was content to hold him for as long as he needed, though the whole time raking claws of wrath and grief mutilated her insides. After an agonizing amount of time, Aubrey returned to playing with the other men, but Lucy’s bloodlust could not subsided. She did not want it to be, in any case. When they all were distracted, she slipped out of the ivy cottage, knife in tow, to reach the rotting alley where she found her child.

He was her child. 

Rain had started to fall and Lucy was soon soaked to the flesh and bone. Thunder and lightning cracked and split through the very fabric of the evening and her composure. She briefly considered that she must look like a maniac, wandering outside with unbound hair and a nightgown, but such things did not seem overly important now.

The door to the bar was closed and locked, but that didn’t matter either. The windows were low to the ground and easy enough to climb through. The only issue was the pane of glass in the way. Lucy wasn’t quite so far gone that she didn’t try the door one last time. When it didn’t budge, she rounded the corner and began to pound on a window with the hilt of her knife. It didn’t break. It didn’t even crack, but Lucy would be damned if she didn’t take sweet vengeance for her child. The only payment worthy of their crime was the warmth of their blood running through her fingers. 

With one final push, she thrust both the hilt and her arm through the pane of glass. It cut long gashes into her forearm that didn’t bleed; not in the way they were supposed to. It was odd. After she forced her way into the bar, she pressed her fingers into the cuts, expecting them to come away warm and damp. Instead, they were covered with Dr. Van Helsing’s blackened, congealed blood. 

It was no matter. Lucy stalked through the abandoned bar, carefully trying to avoid the squeaking floorboards. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Aubrey’s mother said as she crept down the stairs. 

“I’ve lost my child,” Lucy cried, her shriek dying in the wooden room. 

“What?” She asked, her husband appearing over her shoulder with a crowbar clutched between his useless little hands. “I think she’s from the madhouse,” she whispered weakly over her shoulder. 

Lucy laughed as she approached the couple, brandishing her knife. “Pardon me, but I think you might have known where he went.” A wicked smile broke across her face, worse than the glass that still stuck out of her arm. 

“We don’t know what you’re talking about!” The man yelled. “Leave now!”

“I’m not going to leave until I cut his life out of you.” Lucy leapt forward forced the knife into the soft strip of flesh between her throat and her clavicle. Once her flesh was opened, she was able to wrend it with her nails and teeth. She bled out quickly and easily as the warmth of her blood staved away the cold of Lucy’s flesh. 

Her husband lunged for Lucy and struck her across the shoulder with the crowbar. For a moment, it would have worked, but the fabric of her bone was already beginning to knit itself back together. It did hurt; without a doubt, it was agony, but Lucy couldn’t find it within herself to care. The scent of blood, the fear wafting off of him as he clutched at his wife filled Lucy’s head with more euphoria than the sweetest wine. 

“You fiend! Witch!” The man shouted as she drew the blade across his throat, soaking herself with blood. 

It dripped over her lips and Lucy caught the taste of it on her tongue. She knelt next to the corpses and caught a pool of blood in her hands. She drank deep the saccharine draught to her heart’s content. It felt warm in her throat. It was as if all of her senses had sharpened at once. The blood drying on her skin felt too sticky and too cool. 

She was covered in blood. It soaked through her nightgown and through her hair and they all stuck to her like another layer of flesh. 

After she drank her fill, Lucy unlocked the door and walked out into the rain, rivulets of pink flowing into the cobblestones.

  
  



	12. Chapter XII: Saturday, 04/08/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham reenacts a period drama. Mina co-parents. Lucy takes a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So sorry for the two week hiatus. We've all been very busy with homework as the semester gets into full swing. As always, we welcome all comments and criticism!
> 
> Enjoy and happy valentine's day!

The hospital was quiet upon his return, and he followed the strict instruction from Dr. Seward that he was not to trouble himself with the psychiatric ward. Tuberculosis, being innately slow-breeding, meant that his ward was relatively unchanged, save for one key exception. 

Lucy was missing. That was the main concern. He’d approached Nurse Murray at the same moment she approached him, both with the same question in mind and the same unfortunate answer. All they could do was continue the work and hope that she’d be back by nightfall. 

“Mornin’, Doctor,” Mr. Morris said, startling Abraham as he made it back downstairs to his lab.   
“Hello, Mr. Morris,” he said. “You startled me.” 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Mr. Morris said, standing up from where he’d been leaning against the lab bench. “Please, call me Quincy.” 

“Of course,” Abraham said. “You’re, uh, welcome to call me Abraham. If you want.” 

“Alright, Abe,” Quincy said with a lazy smile.

“Abraham,” Abraham bristled. 

“Abraham,” Quincy nodded. “Any sign of Miss Lucy?” 

“Nurse Murray asked me the same thing not an hour ago,” Abraham sighed. “She seems to have disappeared for the day. How may I be of service?” 

“Quincy!” Arthur shouted from somewhere up the stairs. “There is a rat positively the size of a small horse near the soiled bedsheets and I must request that you provide me a gun!” 

“I was goin’ to ask you about a certain Mr. Dracula, but it would appear I’m needed by a damsel in distress,” Quincy said with an odd smile. He placed a large hand on his shoulder, giving him an intimate gaze. “I’m glad you’re one of us, knew it soon’s I met you, but I must advise you to steer clear of that man until Miss Mina says otherwise.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Abraham stammered as Quincy left his lab. One of them? As in friends with Mina? He would hope so at this point. But the smile was peculiar. He sighed and returned to his microscope, allowing himself to be fully seduced by a collection of slides made from a stool sample from a patient with tuberculosis of the alimentary tract. Or, he would have had he not been taken by a fit of coughing. He barely had time to grab the handkerchief from his pocket before he felt overtaken by the force of each cough. His cold must be worse than he’d originally thought, given how wet it was. As it eased he pulled away the handkerchief, mind only barely registering the dots of red amidst the mucus. Miserably, he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Abraham?” A familiarly foreign voice said. 

“Dracula?” Abraham asked weakly, still staring at the cloth. “Now isn’t the best time…” 

“I heard you coughing,” Dracula said, coming in anyways. “Are you alright?” 

“I––” Abraham balked. He balled the handkerchief into his hand as Dracula got closer. It was  _ not _ a good time. “Please come back later, Dracula, I’m afraid I need to be alone for a bit. To study.”

“Let me help,” Dracula said earnestly. “What slides are you looking at today? Would you like me to do some sketches for you, or scribe notes?”

“No,” Abraham said firmly, standing to his feet. “I insist. It’s...confidential,” he added. He made the mistake of meeting Dracula’s eyes, which shone murky and intense at the shift in his voice. Abraham started to guide him from his study when Dracula gripped his arm tightly. 

“You are lying,” Dracula said darkly. Abraham wilted slightly in fear, then confusion as Dracula’s face softened. “What is causing you to lie?” 

“I’m not––” Abraham started. “I fear I am unwell,” he said simply. Anymore than that and he feared he might humiliate himself by falling to tears. 

“That’s unsurprising, you were sick not more than a day ago and anemic,” Dracula said, relaxing his grip on his arm. He shut the door to the study and bolted it, then returned to Abraham’s side and guided him back to his seat. 

“No, I mean truly unwell,” Abraham said quietly. He could feel the pricks of tears behind his eyes and had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep them at bay. 

“Please, be more specific,” Dracula said softly, kneeling by his feet. Abraham looked away in shame as Dracula took his hands as if he was a lady and he were the gentleman caller. Carefully, Dracula pried the handkerchief out of his fingers. Abraham closed his eyes as he unfolded it. 

“No one can know,” Abraham said stiffly. “You shouldn’t be near me.” 

“Nonsense,” Dracula whispered, kissing the back of one of his hands. “I expect you will need your friends.” 

“You will get sick,” Abraham said, panic chasing off his manners and breaking into shallow sobs. “You kissed me a matter of days ago.  _ Fuck! _ ” He cried as he hit his free hand hard on the lab bench. It did nothing to help, but it was a bit of a release. “I am so,  _ so _ sorry, Dracula,” he said, hiding his eyes with his hand. “I fear I’ve killed us both.” 

“No,” Dracula said with absolute certainty, awkwardly pulling Abraham against his shoulder. Normally he would never abide such treatment in a semi-public setting, but Abraham was selfishly unable to give up such a comfort as Dracula stroking his hair. “You have not killed me. Such a little thing as this couldn’t.” 

“Little?” Abraham choked with a humourless laugh. “This is consumption. My grave is dug and I might as well sleep in my coffin.” 

“There must be something,” Dracula said hopefully. “With whole hospitals dedicated to it there must be something.” 

“I meant to teach you this for certain on the first day,” Abraham said, pulling away so he could meet Dracula’s eyes. “There is nothing. No cure. Only treatments, prayers, and the occasional stroke of fortune.” 

“And who would be better at surviving it than one of the best doctors?” Dracula said with an encouragingly, smiling slightly and cupping his face with one hand. Not quite a smile, Abraham observed as he looked closer. There was unmistakable confusion and disbelief in his eyes. 

“I have done everything wrong with my health up to this point in order to live through such a trial,” Abraham said, feeling in both his heart and his words his terrible resignation. 

“You’re young and handsome,” Dracula said, not hopeful but clearly trying to manufacture it for Abraham’s sake. He appreciated it. “You’ll be fit once you eat and sleep.” 

Abraham shook his head slowly. “It’s advanced quickly already,” he said. “I doubt that I will be able to turn my health around more quickly than it can take me.” 

“Nonsense,” Dracula stressed. “You can be cared for. No one here would wish to see you work yourself to death.” 

“Cared for by whom?” Abraham smiled weakly, though it brought more tears to his eyes. “I am a bachelor with no fiance, my parents are both deceased, and Lucy is unwell.”

Dracula was quiet for a moment, handsome face drawn tight with focus. “You said I would stay with you in London until I could find my own apartment,” he finally said. “Let me stay with you permanently instead. Until your health improves, at the very least.” 

“People will talk––” Abraham started.

“They already are,” Dracula said flatly. Abraham was stunned to quiet. 

“What?” Abraham asked.

“Mr. Morris and Mr. Holmwood are, among other things, terrible gossips,” Dracula said. “No harm has been done, but their passive speculations have been overheard and parroted by the nurses and a few patients.” 

“Does Dr. Seward know?” Abraham asked, a fresh terror overtaking him. 

“I doubt he cares,” Dracula said dismissively. He leaned forward and kissed Abraham on the forehead. “Do not deny yourself the small comforts available to you.” 

“You mean you?” Abraham scoffed. He immediately felt terrible. “I am...sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.” 

“I do mean me, if I am who you would have near you,” Dracula said, unphased. “I have never met anyone like you in my life. Someone who cares for no reward and shows such compassion for the damned and dying.”

“I am just a doctor,” Abraham blushed. “We are all meant to do so.” 

“But not many do. Not truly, anyways,” Dracula said with a gentle smile. “I know you’ve paid for many of your patients’ treatments out of your own pocket, and I know you’ve provided services to the untouchable members of society; the beggars and the whores.” 

“Please don’t call any woman a whore,” Abraham said sharply. Dracula laughed and looked delighted in the way a child might when shown something truly novel.

“See! I have never been told such a thing by a man,” Dracula said. “You are a treasure.” 

“Please stop,” Abraham smiled sheepishly. “I fear I’m blushing like a maid.” 

“You are,” Dracula grinned. He held his eyes for a moment before Dracula leaned forward, kissing him softly on the mouth. Abraham tensed at first, still unused to any such show of affection, but he found he relaxed quickly. He was pleasantly breathless as they pulled away. “Do not give up hope,” Dracula said quietly. Abraham smiled sadly, reaching out and touching Dracula’s cheek. 

“I fear we will both have to give up our hope for my long life,” Abraham said, hardly above a whisper. “But I won’t disparage what good I can do with what remains of it.”

* * *

“--And as you can see, I am quite recovered now,” Renfield smiled, ever the gentleman he never was. Mina eyed him warily as Seward wrapped the entirety of a roll of gauze around his left wrist. She was sure, by this point, that the palish-gore of his injury should be well accounted for, but Seward seemed to have completely lost track of himself, peering deep in Renfield’s confident gaze with narrowed eyes.

“Mr. Renfield, while I appreciate that you are of sound mind in this moment, I must bring to your attention the bloody gash along your forearm,” Seward said, exhaustion evident in very syllable. 

Renfield looked down at his arm and flexed his fingers experimentally. “A minor lapse,” he dismissed. “The stress of the tuberculosis ward above me has stretched my conscious thin. Each day with the coughing and the wailing, well, it’s enough to drive even the most hardened of men mad.” He looked up, facing Seward and Mina in turn and with pointed politeness. “I do not ask to be released, sir, only to be, perhaps, transferred or moved under observation elsewhere. I have a friend in Salisbury who could be trusted to care for me while more permanent arrangements are made.”

Seward frowned, specifically at the use of the word  _ sir.  _ It was a well known fact among staff and patients alike that Renfield and Seward’s particular relationship could only be described as a mutually obsessive fascination, far surpassing the boundaries of formality and (in Mina’s humble opinion) health. “Renfield, I cannot allow you to leave so abruptly,” Seward recovered from the oddity. He picked absentmindedly at the dried blood on his forehead, remnants of the chair Renfield had thrown at him only hours earlier. 

“Couldn’t you?” Renfield cocked his head. “I believed a man of your renown would have no issue finding a partner willing to take me on. Do you not have colleagues; students?”

Seward’s face shifted minutely, the barest hint of ruffled pride breaking through his professional facade. Mina strode over and, making sure her heel was hidden by the displaced bed sheet pooled around their feet, kicked him. 

“It is not possible to transport you at the moment, Robert,” she inserted herself smoothly into the conversation. “I’m afraid you will have to remain here. Would you be more comfortable if you were moved to a different room?”

Renfield surveyed her impassively. “No, Nurse Murray. I do not believe I would be.” He said in a flat tone.

Mina sighed and sat beside Renfield, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps you would feel more at ease if I stayed with you tonight?” She looked quickly to Seward who, upon seating himself on Renfield’s other side, had also placed a hand on Renfield’s back, painting the three of them as an odd and dysfunctional family: man, woman, and spider-consuming man-child. Mina shuddered.

“I would not feel better, I believe,” Renfield said, voice rising in passion. “I shall not feel better until I am free from this wretched place.” 

“Such a change of heart, man,” Seward cautioned. “Why, only yesterday you were intent on remaining evermore in our care. Did you not say you wished to be with Mr. Dracula?”

It was a risk to bring the vampire into their conversation and this Seward knew. Still, once said, Mina could not resist the urge to lean in intently. 

Renfield’s face meshed and melded, till, at once, he seemed to take on the facade of a chided little boy barred from his supper and an elderly uncle ruminating in memories of war in time to the squeal of his rocking chair. The man crossed his arms and stared down at the floor. It was only at this moment, of course, that Mina noticed the startling lack of bugs, rats, and birds in the room.

“Robert,” she prompted softly. 

Renfield sniffed and turned his head away. “Mr. Dracula has no interest in me any longer,” he finally spat. “All of his attention...nay, his devotion is turned to that-- that  _ queen _ , Van Helsing!”

“Mr. Renfield,” Seward chided sharply. “That is no way to speak of one who has been only kind to you!” Mina thought it strange that the vaguely deraguetory word would have such an effect on him but, then again, Van Helsing had been his teacher for all the jealousy he held against him.

Indeed, Renfield did look repentant for his outburst and immediately tucked his head into his knees. As the silence stretched to a needle point, Mina found it within herself to reach forward and brush a stray strand of hair behind the man’s ear. At the contact, he took a shaky breath and fixed clear eyes upon her. “I wish to be moved.” He commanded firmly to the both of them. “And furthermore, I wish you two to come with me. I do not think this asylum to be safe, even with Mr. Dracula’s impending departure. Especially with Mr. Dracula’s departure.” He fidgeted nervously in his lap. “I...lied about the friend in Salisbury. But we could go elsewhere!” He looked to Seward hopefully. “Did you not used to work at Bedlam? We could travel there.”

Seward looked truly disturbed. “Mr. Renfield are you suggesting that you would be more comfortable among the criminally insane and maddened than in Whitby’s sheltered asylum?”

“Most certainly,” Renfield confirmed with a harsh nod. The slump of his shoulders and the pull of his twitching gaze awakened within Mina an overwhelming protectiveness, which had henceforth only been drawn to skin level by Lucy’s idiocy, Johnathan’s larger idiocy, and Aubrey’s pink-tinted smiles.

“Dr Seward,” Mina said at the same instant he echoed, “Nurse Murray.”

“May I speak to you in the hall?”

Once safely locked away from Renfield’s prying ears, Seward quite quickly collapsed against the tattered wall while Mina took position opposite him. 

Mina heaved a long breath in the silence and cast a glance to the window, where a setting sun indicated the end of a long day. And without any sign of dear Lucy. The whip of winter’s wind across the sea seemed to beat into the back of her ribs even in the overheated hall. 

“Should we…” Seward began hesitantly, “perhaps...take him?”

Mina raised an eyebrow. “Take him where?” She asked, neither endorsing nor denying his idea.

Seward shrugged, the motion limp with uncertainty. He carded a hand through his disheveled hair and across his heavily shadowed eyes. “I could take him back to my home. Yes,” he mumbled, “I suppose I could do that. It would be a risk. I would have to justify my actions, no doubt.”

“You live in a tiny flat with scant an extra room,” Mina reminded him gently. “And that is not even taking into account the obvious difficulties.”

“Which are?”

“How would you explain your removing Renfield considering you are neither friend nor  family to him?”

Seward snorted, a small revitalization of his spirit. “I could adopt him as my child. He certainly claims enough of my time and resources.”

“He is fifty-nine,” Mina rolled her eyes.

“And I am grey enough to be one hundred and twelve. What is your point?”

“Our point,” Morris shouted down the hall, much to the chagrin of his companion, Holmwood, and the distaste of the nurses, who rapidly vacated the hall, “is that just because you look older than a dying spinster, doesn’t mean you should act it!”

Mina shook her head. “What on earth are you talking about?” She asked, confounded.

“I don’t reckon’ I know,” Morris grinned broadly. “But I like to be a part of things and I’m loud enough that people don’t often ignore me.” He tipped his ridiculous cowboy hat to Mina. “Fearless leader.”

“Mr. Morris,” Mina smirked despite herself. Her good nature faded, however, as she remembered what the men were returning from. “Has there been any sign of her?”

“Depends on what you call a sign,” Holmwood intercepted and overrode whatever nonsense Morris was about to spout. “We’ve heard talk around town this morning of an...unpleasant incident which occurred last evening.”

“Unpealsent?” Mina pried, mind reeling with preemptive panic; visions of Lucy painted in blood, her own or others or likely both. She took a step forward. “Speak plainly to me, Holmwood. What have you heard?”

“A family was slaughtered in the more unsavory section of town, under the cover of a stormy night’s gaping darkness. An old bar, I believe. The woman had her throat torn asunder as if by animal claws while the man was silenced by a blade.” Holmwood looked ill. “It was apparently a bloody scene, to put things mildly.”

“Arteries stuck to the ceiling kinda bloody,” Morris pipped up helpfully.

Mina’s stomach churned violently. “When did you discover this? How long has it been since the incident? Who bore witness to it? Were there any survivors?”

Seward, always the quickest of the trio, seemed to pick up her intention immediately. “You believe Nurse Westenra had a hand in this?” He asked, voice quavering at the edges.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for this to be the work of Dracula?” Morris asked. “Considering, you know…” he mimed pointed fangs while drawing his other arm around him like a cape. 

“No, no,” Mina muttered. She glanced at Morris. “Definitely no. If it was a bar, then it must have been Aubrey’s parents. She went after them, I-- I knew I should have-- I should have stopped her, held her back, I don’t know!” She clutched her hair and yanked. Without a clear outlet to her fear, it burst forth as flaming frustration. “God, why do I choose to surround myself with such hapless dumbness! Why must I be in love with such a woman as she!”

She stopped abruptly as the words which had emerged from her mouth registered.

The three men in the hall stared at her without speaking for a long, breath-stealing moment. Then, suddenly, money began to change hands. 

“How long was that?” Morris grinned. “Three days? Less?”

“It was more like five,” Seward complained pointedly. 

“Still less than you bet.” He snatched the bill from Seward’s hand and pocketed it before saddling up to a horribly embarrassed Holmwood and wrapping an indecent arm about his waist. Mina’s eyes widened. 

“You,” she pointed at Morris and Holmwood in turn, “and  _ him.  _ I-- what?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice before,” Seward’s lip curled. “Those two are horribly indiscreet and you can trust my judgement on that, having been forced to deal with their rampant affections for years.”

Feeling entirely lighthearted, Mina threw a panicked glance to Seward. “Are you also…” she asked faintly.

“I am not,” Seward scoffed, crossing his arms tight and avoiding her prying eyes. “Though it seems I am the only one among my friends not to indulge in the pleasures of the rougher sex.”

“Oh, please, Jackie,” Morris laughed, “I’ve seen the way pine after that Van Helsing. Don’t go lying to Miss Mina about your preference.”

A pale blush (attraction or anger, Mina couldn’t tell) crept along Seward’s cheeks as he glowered. “I swear, Quincy, if it were in my physical power, I would--”

But what exactly Seward would do was lost to mystery as, in that exact moment, a crash sounded from inside Renfield’s room, followed by a shallow scream. A woman’s scream.

Mina burst through the door, flanked by the three men, to see Renfield pressed into a narrow corner, widened eyes on the broken barred window adjacent to his bed. She followed his gaze as if in a daze, eyes tracing upwards, through the dust and the dried blood to the looming figure sitting on the sill. Her hair, molded by wind and rain water, was plastered to the head and her dress was ripped and stained deeper than wine, but it was the eyes that called to Mina most; her eyes; pale, split, unfocused. 

Her throat constricted to a point.

Morris, ever the sensitive, was the first to speak. “Well,” he said, “it appears we have found your dear love, Miss Mina. Good job team!”

“Hooray,” Holmwood cheered weakly.

* * *

Dear love? 

The cold and clamor of the spring-ish morning sat itself deep within Lucy’s chest as she looked onto the horrified group of all her friends save for Dr. Van Helsing. Their faces all betrayed the utter revulsion and disgust that such a sight as her should illicit. The only two who seemed nonplussed about her bewildering entrance were Quincy and Renfield. And then there was the noise and the noise and the noise of their breathings. The shallow, rapid breaths mixed with the deep thrumming of their dear-tempered hearts wove together like polyrhythm and crushed to the back of Lucy’s skull. She clashed her hands over her ears and stumbled to the floor. 

“Is this a new friend?” Renfield asked, still crouched in his little corner. “Or rather, a newly repurposed old friend!” He gave Lucy a small wave and creeped out to greet her. “Hello Nurse Westenra. I’ve heard so many things about you. I think I always figured that you would end up here with me, but the blood was unexpected.”

“Renfield—“ Dr. Seward threatened, but the man didn’t let him get a word in. 

“She’s a little bigger than a kitten,” he mused, turning back to the onlookers. “But I think she will still do quite nicely.” Renfield reached out and grabbed her hand. Lucy tried desperately to pull away, but his grip was firm and his nails sharp like claws. As he ran them over the back of her hand, flakes of blood came off in neat little tracks and he looked infinitely amused. “If I can find this much blood, will you send me to Bedlam?”

Lucy clutched her hand back in horror as she watched the slight scratches in her flesh start to knit themselves together. “Please don’t send me to Bedlam,” she rasped, her voice high and dry like reeds at low tide. She cast her eyes across the room and was met with Seward’s confusion, Arthur’s horror, Quincy’s curiosity, and Mina’s haze, like fog creeping over the endless sea. There was no argument to be made on her behalf except her own hollow, half-sobbed cries of “please.” 

“I supposed I am no reining expert in legal matters,” Quincy said as he looped his arm with Arthur’s, who still looked mildly perturbed. “Come now, junebug, it’s not like our so-called secret can be hidden anymore.” Arthur just blushed and stammered nothing in reply. “Anyway, not an expert in legal matters, but really, what’s the harm of killing two wicked child abusers. If Miss Westenra was not seen, then she will not be caught, I reckon. And for all the wicked stories Artie tells me of men who stalk the night killing innocent women, it is not like the police really give a damn.” The gathered crowd stared at Quincy as if he had two heads. “All I’m saying is, no harm, no foul. Unless you start killing your friends, Miss Westenra. Then we might run into a pinch of trouble.”

“I do agree with Mr. Morris, but from a slightly different angle.” Arthur said, his soft, sweet voice mellowing the rising tension in the room. “If we were to turn Ms. Westenra in to Scotland Yard in her current, presumably vampiric, condition, we would have no way of knowing how they, or she, would react. We could not condemn our friend to a life where she would be inhumanely treated and housed with no regard to the complexity of her situation.”

“It is true,” Seward mumbled in agreement. “I have some evidence to suggest that the treatment of…such lapses of judgment and character may be better treated by loved ones in a comfortable environment.”

“Can I still keep her?’ Renfield whined. Lucy shrunk back into her own corner at the grating sound. “I promise to take very good care of her and feed her every day.” He clapped his hands together like a child. “Oh! This is even better than a kitten!”

“Stop this nonsense at once!” Mina snapped, clearing the fog like a thunderstorm. “I will hear nothing of leaving Nurse Westenra, either here or with Scotland Yard or anywhere!” She walked over to Lucy and picked her up, roughly, by her elbow. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to go bathe my friend because she stinks,” she said through gritted teeth. “And I do not trust her not to drown herself in the bathwater.” 

With that, Lucy was whisked away, fast as lightning, into another cold, dark room. Black tendrils of dread were beginning to climb their way from her stomach into her throat. Where once Mina’s hand around her wrist would have been a source of comfort now it felt like a vice. Mina was gentle and strong and the guilt from the past night clawed in Lucy’s chest. 

Dear love? 

She couldn’t possibly imagine that Mina felt like that about her anymore. Perhaps she never did. Lucy shook her head, earning her a look and a tighter grasp from Mina. This was nothing. It was worse than nothing. All her hopes and dreams from school and her lonely years in London swirled around her like snow and fog, silent and biting.

Mina sat Lucy on the edge of a chair and began to undo her dressing gown. Her hands were warm against the nape of her neck and she was gentle despite the iron in her eyes. Lucy tried in vain to push her away, but her blood-drained hands couldn’t find their purchase.

“Stop this ridiculousness!” Mina snapped, holding Lucy’s hands away from her face. “You will allow me to take care of you since you are so clearly not capable of taking care of yourself and that is final!” 

Lucy wanted to say something, anything, but there was nothing. All she could do was comply. Mina was still gentle like sunlight filtering through water. With a hand on her back, she helped Lucy into a washing basin. 

The water was cold and Lucy was immediately set to shivering. Mina cast a look to her, some of the ice melting away to revel fear and pity. Lucy hid her face in the crook of her elbow. Shame burned along her cheeks and chest even though there was no longer any blood for her to blush. 

Without warning, Mina dumped a bucket of water, slightly warmed by a fire, over Lucy’s head. The water ran pink into her eyes and Lucy was unable to stifle a whimper. Mina pushed her hair away from her eyes and there was no way for Lucy to look away. The full, wordless force of Mina’s care was radiantly burning into her memory. 

“What in the devil were you thinking?” Mina asked. Where Lucy would have expected anger, there was only fear. 

“I…I…” she stammered. “I was angry. They hurt Aubrey.”

“But murder, Lucy? Murder?” Mina paced in front of the basic, gathering together soap and a washcloth. “I have hardly heard of something so reckless in my entire life!” She pulled at her hair.

“I don’t regret it,” Lucy said weakly. “They are evil and there was no one else to discharge justice.”

“This isn’t a matter of justice, Lucy,” Mina said, turning to face her friend. She started to work the soap through her hair. The flats of her nails dragged pleasantly across Lucy’s scalp. “No one is arguing that they did not deserve it.”

“Then I do not see—“

“You did not think!” Mina pushed herself to her feet. “God, how can you be so bright and so incredibly stupid?”

“Mina…”

“How am I supposed to trust you around Aubrey now if you’re going to bring this type of violence into our home?” She blinked hard and shook her head clear. “My home. God, what am I supposed to tell Dr. Van Helsing? Or Jonathan? You are lucky beyond reason that none of the men in our company want to throw you to the police, but who knows about the rest of Whitby.” She dumped another bowl of water over Lucy’s dead, shielding her eyes with her hands. After a few passes, it ran clear and she set to scrubbing away the dried blood on Lucy’s skin. 

“No one saw me,” Lucy whispered. “I promise you that.” Mina stared at her for a beat and continued with her work. “And I’m sorry I disturbed Renfield and the rest of our company. I’m sorry I was unable to control my anger. I’m sorry that I’ve frightened you.” 

“Are you sorry for putting yourself in danger?” Mina asked, a fire lighting in her eyes. “What if someone had seen you? What if you were caught? Do you think Aubrey could bear to lose you? He has just found a loving home, Lucy! And you would have taken that away for the sake of revenge.” There was nothing Lucy could say. “And never mind your talk of vampirism. I should think—”

“I didn’t bleed,” Lucy said, cutting off her friend and raising the pad of her thumb to her teeth. Her flesh tasted like iron as she ran the soft skin over doubled fangs. “I…I really am…”

Mina gently took her face in her hands and gazed into her eyes. Lucy weakly bared her teeth as she watched the blood drain from Mina’s cheeks.

“Dracula has a life, or something that resembles it. This is not the end,” she said, her voice turned to stone. 

“I won’t ever die. I can’t be killed.” Something deep and primal stirred within Lucy as she grabbed Mina’s hands, twining her fingers with her own. “Do you think I could bear to live without you? Without Aubrey or Abraham?”

Mina’s expression softened just a fraction as she pulled Lucy into an embrace. “That is a long way off. None of us will be leaving you very soon.”

“I don’t want you to be just a burst in my supernaturally long life.” As Lucy wept, Mina wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I had wanted to grow old with you as my companion, if you would have taken me.”

“Lucy…” Mina said as she pressed her palm to her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy choked, her voice ravaged by ceaseless tears and unimaginable grief. “I have admired and loved you since the moment I met you.” It was difficult for Lucy to speak through her gasps for breath. “I don’t know what to do to keep you safe from me. I need to leave—”

“No. I need you to stay,” Mina said as she pressed their foreheads together. “Trust that I need you to stay.”

Lucy nodded, but the thought of disappearing into the darkening woods alone and unhindered did not leave her. Time left in solitude to study and learn how to eradicate the vampiric pest. And herself. 

“Mina, may I please come home?” Lucy asked, not meeting her eyes for fear they would show her deeper intentions. 

Mina pulled back, and lifted Lucy’s chin so their eyes were forced to meet. Mina always could read her like a book. A flash of comprehension and hardened resolve made her try to look away.

“No,” she said. Her eyes held compassion, burning bright and radiant, for Lucy, for Jonathan, for Aubrey and every living soul that that passed through Whitby. Even as the tears brimmed in her eyes, Lucy knew it was the right decision. “I’ll ready you a room here, somewhere. Until this...bloodlust and mania has passed.” She took a long, deep look at Lucy. “I don’t know what you think to unleash upon yourself, or others, but I mislike it. I will not have you so carelessly throw lives away, Lucy Westenra. Even your own. Especially your own.”

Mina looked like an albatross harried by a storm. Even with her senses, sharp and dazzling as they now were, Lucy could not find the strength to read her face or find the true intention behind the words, only that she would be left alone and Dracula was free and that either way, her friends were in danger. So, she would stay here, in her cell of a room, and wait.

  
  



	13. Chapter XIII: Monday, 04/10/1885

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham extends an invitation. Mina punches a fence. Lucy gets batty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! As always, we love feedback, comments, kudos, and questions, so don't hesitate to reach out!

How convenient it was that he had Sunday off, Abraham thought to himself morosely. He would never have been able to pull himself from the fit of melancholy he had slumped into after work on Saturday, and, truth to god, he’d only barely managed to pull himself out of it today. There was a conflict in him and he never cared for discourse with himself. On the one hand, this new realization that there was no improvement in sight for him was enough to make him wish he were in a position of freedom to slit his wrists and end it quickly rather than waiting for the disease to bleed him from the inside. On the other hand, he was now in the best position of anyone to treat others with the disease. Furthermore, he could test newer theories of treatments directly on himself without endangering anyone else. 

It was the matter of time that bothered him. According to his own research over the years he’d spent both as a student and as a teacher at Barts, he had between a 20-60% chance of living for another five years, depending on how well he could improve and maintain his overall health. He was a modest man, but he was wealthy and could move out to the country if he should so desire, which would in turn raise his prospective lifespan. Beyond five years, it seemed to be (in his best scientific terms) a crapshoot. He knew of a man who had the disease for twenty-five years, with only the very last few years spent truly infirm from it. There was a chance, then, that he might have the same luck and live an only slightly shorter life span. The only issue was that the odds largely pointed towards five years, not twenty-five, and that he was never the most robust person to begin with. 

“Doctor,” Dr. Seward said, pulling Abraham from his dismal thoughts. “May I speak with you a moment?” 

“Of course,” Abraham said, commanding the fog around his head to dissipate. He stared at his notes, suddenly quite unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. 

“Alone,” Dr. Seward said seriously, glancing to the curious eyes of patients and nurses around them. Dracula was (like a good doctor) actually doing his rounds, and Abraham nodded to him subtly as he shot them a worried glance.

“Certainly,” Abraham said as they ducked into the hall. “What seems to be the issue?” 

“It’s Nurse Westenra,” Dr. Seward said grimly. “I wanted you to hear it from me,” he continued slowly, “but she seems to have had...a fit, of sorts. Nurse Murray thought it prudent to admit her until we can be assured that it is over and she no longer poses any danger to––”

“Danger?” Abraham interjected, brow furrowing. “What on earth are you saying?” 

  
“Surely you’ve heard about the murders?” Dr. Seward said grimly. Abraham shook his head slowly. “A couple was found dead Saturday morning,” he continued. “A real penny dreadful, judging by the news report. Throats slashed, largely bled dry. Quincy ran over and saw the scene before it was tidied up, but Arthur wouldn’t let him tell us about it.” 

“What does this have to do with Lucy?” Abraham asked, eyebrows knit together with worry. At least this fear was centered around someone else and not his own impending doom.

“I understand you two recently acquired a child,” Dr. Seward said simply. 

“Aubrey’s parents?” Abraham asked, voice pitching high with shock. “She’d...she wouldn’t...would she?” He mumbled to himself. He cringed as Dr. Seward patted his arm. 

“She appeared in Renfield’s cell that afternoon, drenched to the bone in clotted and dried blood,” Dr. Seward whispered. “It was...largely around the mouth area as well, as if…”

“She was drinking it?” Abraham asked, nauseated even as the words passed his lips. He raised a hand to cover his mouth. “Oh lord…” 

“She is being cared for here, as we speak,” Dr. Seward said, as if it were meant to be a comfort. “As I said, just until we know she poses no further danger.” 

“You put her in a cell?!” Abraham snapped, blushing slightly at the odd looks he got from the nurses nearby. “John, you should have summoned me first!” He added in a harsh whisper. 

“You are not a psychiatric doctor, Abraham,” Dr. Seward countered. “How many murderers have you treated in your life?” 

“Well, none,” Abraham admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “But she’s my friend, and I would prefer for Nurse Murray and I to have been consulted prior to treatment.”

“Nurse Murray recommended it as well,” Dr. Seward said softly. “The way I see it, she needs to be isolated. For now, she can stay here. If she shows improvement, we can perhaps move her to Arthur’s estate. It’s a few miles from town, so it would be a challenge for her to find other people to injure.” 

“But what about Arthur and his family?” Abraham asked. “Surely they can’t take such a risk.” 

Dr. Seward’s face broke into a slightly strange smile, somewhere between confident and resigned. “Arthur’s sole residential companion at present is Quincy. The cook only comes twice a day and the maid for only two hours each morning.” 

“But neither of them are medical professionals,” Abraham reasoned. 

“No, but Nurse Murray has offered to stay with them as well,” Dr. Seward continued. “Actually,” he added with a slight smile, “Arthur has invited all of your party to stay with him rather than in an inn. He was rather insistent that it would be fun.” 

“I couldn’t possibly impose on him,” Abraham said quickly. “More importantly, I cannot abandon Aubrey.” 

Dr. Seward cleared his throat awkwardly. “Arthur has also insisted that, quote, ‘the presence of young master Aubrey should be considered the highest honor,’” Dr. Seward said stiffly. “He also mentioned that, should you choose to stay and bring Aubrey, that the boy could have full reign over the old nursery and playroom.” 

It was a tempting offer. It would be lovely to be able to give Aubrey room to play, especially with both he and Lucy evidently unwell. Then again, there was the issue of his health. No matter where he lived, he would pose a health risk to those around him. “I will consider it,” Abraham finally said. “I would like to speak to Nurse Westenra first, though.” 

“You will need to go through Nurse Murray, then,” Dr. Seward said with a slight frown. “She’s been...rather protective of her since we admitted her into our care.” 

“I’m sure she won’t object,” Abraham said confidently. “What room is she in?” 

“317,” Dr. Seward said. Abraham cringed. That was a whole two flights up. “Alright, Dr. Van Helsing?” 

“Yes,” Abraham said quickly. “I’ll go to her now. Let Mr. Dracula know where I’ll be?” 

“Of course,” Dr. Seward said. Abraham couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw the other man pale slightly at the mention of Dracula. Everyone still seemed odd about him, but where their accusations had been dubious before they seemed absurd now after the days he’d spent in his care. For certain there were some quirks about the man, but he truly did seem harmless. 

He took the stairs carefully, keeping one hand in a vice grip on the stair railing. Now that he knew the culprit of his infirmity, he felt like a moron for his constant prescription of rigorous activity and a robust diet. Even after only five steps he felt as though he’d sprinted up the whole two flights. He was lucky, he realized, that everyone had him down as a bit of an eccentric. The nurses hardly looked to him as he paused for breath between each set of stairs. They probably assumed he was lost in thought, admiring the coastal landscape from the window. 

It took him embarrassingly long to locate Nurse Westenra’s room, largely due to the fact that he’d made it his mission to avoid spending time in the psychiatric ward as much as possible. The shouts of the crazed and the cries of the miserable left him feeling hollow inside. As a doctor, he despised diseases for which there was no cure or treatment and most of ailments of the mind fell squarely in those categories. 

“Nurse Westenra?” He asked softly as he knocked on her door. It was locked, he noted. 

“Dr. Van Helsing?” Her voice called back, weak as a bird with a broken wing. 

“May I come in?” He asked gently. “I hear you’re in a bad way and I’d like to check on you myself.” 

“It’s locked on your side,” she said hoarsely. Abraham took it as an invitation to enter. 

The room was, by comparison, quite nice. It seemed to have been thoroughly cleaned and a selection of books were brought in. The linens on the bed, Abraham noted, were not standard to the hospital and seemed familiar to Ivy Cottage, as did the knitted throw blanket. Nurse Westenra was seated in a rocking chair (once again, not hospital standard) in a nightgown with her long blond hair loose about her shoulders, looking more like a ghost than a woman. She failed to meet his eyes as he sat on the bed across from her. All the same, the dark circles were evident. 

“Lucy…” Abraham started. 

“Don’t,” she cut him off, biting her lip. “I know what I’ve done and I know it is an unforgivable act.” There was a moment in which she allowed the words to hang. “However––” she started, making eye contact finally. Abraham held up a hand.

“No need,” he said gently. “Aubrey’s parents brutally maltreated him. While that doesn’t excuse the, uh, murders, it is explanation enough for why you would attack them during a fit of hysteria.” 

“Hysteria?” Lucy asked with a broken laugh. “You believe this to simply be a bought of women’s troubles?” 

“There’s no other alternative, unless they directly assaulted you,” Abraham reasoned. Lucy shook her pale head. 

“I’ve warned you all along,” she said gravely. “This is not hysteria. This is not anything so––so  _ human _ as that!” She spat, the words bitter with grief. 

“Lucy, I don’t follow,” Abraham whispered. 

“I am like him,” Lucy said with abject misery and wrath. “That leech you call a friend. Mr. Dracula, if that’s even a real name.”

“We have no evidence––” Abraham started, panic rising in him. It didn’t rise as fast as Lucy standing to her feet and towering over him. 

“We have too much evidence!” She snapped. “His teeth, the strange qualities of his saliva; hell, even his eyes are the color of blood!” She shouted. “And look,” she said more softly, pulling back her lips to reveal a double-set of canine teeth, unnaturally white and sharpened.    


“How?” Abraham muttered, breathing so quickly and shallowly that it caused him pain. He could feel a nervous sweat across his forehead as well. 

“He bit my throat,” Lucy said, pulling back her hair and revealing an odd bite mark over her carotid artery. “It was the night before I woke to find you unconscious and slowly bleeding out via a transfusion.” 

The thoughts were getting away from him in his own head as he added up his own stray bits of odd conversation. If Lucy’s accusation was true, it would explain Dracula’s nonchalance on the subject of sharing a bed (and kissing, no less) a person with active tuberculosis. It would explain the fact that, despite living with him for days, he’d never seen Dracula eat anything besides the occasional cup of tea or wine. Yes, all of that seemed to support her dreadful theory, but that was less what was worrying him. No, the matter at the forefront of his fear was the sudden, selfish realization that if Dracula weren’t fully human, and possibly Lucy wasn’t either, he might not be damned to complete isolation at the end of his life. It was a tiny, meager light but he could feel his heart cling to it harder with every beat. 

“What do you propose we do?” He asked, choking down his own emotions. 

“We need to kill him,” she said coldly. “And myself.” 

“Oh, absolutely not!” Abraham shouted, standing to his full height despite the dizziness. “I will not allow such talk! Deliberately ending a life because of, well,” he tripped over his words, “some unfavorable diagnosis is selfish! Completely, irredeemably, grotesquely,” he paused, realizing he was panting slightly from his panic, “selfish,” he finished weakly. 

He stared back at Lucy, expecting some kind of fire in her eyes or at least a cutting rebuttal, but he saw only concern. He flinched away as she reached for his forehead but she was faster. “You’re burning,” she said simply. 

“I’m quite alright,” he said, removing her hand lightly. He eased himself back down onto the bed, a wave of exhaustion crashing over him.“Just...a stress fever. It will surely pass in moments.” 

“You haven’t been at all well since we got here,” she pushed, gripping his face despite his protests. Her grip was unusually strong. “You’re face is sallow, not to mention the dark circles under your eyes,” she said. “Open your mouth,” she commanded. 

“I will n––” she pried his jaws apart just as he was speaking, looking into it briefly before sighing and unhanding him. 

“The lighting in here is terrible,” she muttered. 

“I assure you,” Abraham lied stiffly, “my health is sound.” 

“Any coughing? Chills? Lack of appetite?” Lucy listed off, sitting back in the chair. 

“Lucy, if anyone should be able to self-diagnose, it would be me,” Abraham said with a half-smile. “If I were ill I’m sure I’d be the first to know.” 

“And the last to ask for help,” Lucy grumbled, crossing her arms. 

“All is well,” Abraham said, practically choking on his own dishonesty. He’d never before lied to her and he certainly didn’t enjoy starting now. “No more talk to killing anyone, alright? There must be a better solution,” he said as he got up to take his leave. 

“I certainly can’t see one,” Lucy scoffed. 

“Have you considered Lord Holmwood’s offer?” Abraham asked by the door. “To stay at his estate until you are better recovered?” 

“I have not,” Lucy said, setting her jaw. 

“I think it might be prudent to consider it as an alternative to this,” he said, gesturing to the room. “There’s apparently a nursery that Aubrey has been personally invited to inspect.” The last part brought a sad smile to Lucy’s lips. 

“I’ll consider it,” Lucy said softly. “But you shouldn’t hesitate to take him there yourself. I’m sure you would make better company for Arthur.” 

“I am quite certain that no one is better company than you,” he smiled. “Besides, I only know how to speak about medicine, which makes for a rather dreary dinner conversation.” 

“And you believe I’m any better?” She said with a hollow laugh.

“Infinitely,” Abraham said confidently. “I’ll go and tell Dr. Seward that you accept Lord Holmwood’s offer.” 

“No––” Lucy started, but Abraham closed the door. 

“It will be good for everyone!” He said as he left. He didn’t bother locking her in. 

* * *

Mina resisted the urge to slam the door as she entered Ivy Cottage though she could not quell the desire to throw her coat and shoes to the floor, despite the way it made the drowsing Johnathan jump and the quietly playing Aubrey freeze in place, one hand clutching white around his toy train. Instantly she softened, taking to one knee and placing her hands before her. 

“Sorry to startle, Master Aubrey,” she said in the sweetest voice her red-tinted spirit could muster. 

The boy regarded her with fear for a moment longer as, in turn, she regarded him, concreting in her mind that this helpless child was now and forevermore a proper orphan and thus the object of their care. Who ‘they’ were to be, of course, remained to be seen. Van Helsing, who was wrapped firmly in the arms of the enemy? Dracula, who had transformed her dear love into a ruthless killer with the slightest cut? Lucy, who--

She yanked her thoughts short and smiled. “Everything is well,” she assured again and this time Aubrey seemed to take heed, gifting her with the shyest smile before running back to the couch. Mina watched with vague bemusement as Aubrey pulled his way onto the velvet surface and, face intent and focused, squirmed beneath Johnathan’s blanket. 

Johnathan, broken from his trance of concern by the sudden presence, peeked beneath the blanket with a grin. “Is it time for the young conductor to take to his sleeping car?” He asked playfully.

Mina did not catch Aubrey’s response but advanced quickly forward as, in one jerking motion, her companion lifted the child, still coiled tight in his woolen cocoon, into his arms. As he took a stumbling step forward, she seized his elbow and fixed him with a disapproving look. He smiled sheepishly before allowing her to guide both him and the child into his bedroom to be deposited on the nest-like pile of quilts and raggidy pillows which constituted his bed. When watching Aubrey, expression gentle and sweet in half-sleep, proved to be too much to bear, Mina exited the room and strode out the back door and into the garden. 

Ivy Cottage had, once upon a time, been aptly named; a well-mannered, squat thing, bursting from every window with plumes of cut roses, steepled in boughs of honeysuckle and lilac, and smelling always lavender, which had seeped into the sea-air softened wood with such potency that it could be detected all through the winter. Of course, this had been in the days of Mina’s grandmother and, as time paced steadily on, the state of the place had deteriorated, the roses disappearing from the windows as Mina’s mother took up suffrage and the lilac wilting into the earth as Mina trod to the asylum each morning at dawn. Eventually, only the overgrown ivy remained, along with whatever stubborn plants had managed to worm their way through the unfertile soul. Yet, the smell of lavender still remained; soft, sweet, and bare against the nose, a memory more than anything else.

Leaned against the fence, Mina breathed it deeply, willing the subtle scent to increase and cloud the fear and rage waging war across her unoccupied mind. It did nothing. She slammed one hand against the fence and muffled a scream with her other as the rough wood split along her palm. 

“Mina?” Johnathan asked, hovering uncertainly in the doorway to their home. His sharp blue eyes drew immediately upon her bleeding palm but made no comment. Burrowing his hands deep into his pockets, he drifted over as if floated on a stray breeze and joined her against the fence. “I take it something has happened,” he stated rather than asked.

The thrown match sparked against her fractured demeanor like dynamite. 

“She is lost!” Mina roared, throwing her hand once more against the fence. The blood splattered down the water-soaked wood and hung there; the imitation of a long dead rose; the color of Lucy’s dress as she raced along the sea shore. “She is a murderer!”

“A murderer?” Johnathan asked, voice taking on a strange and strained sheen. If she had been of saner mind, she would have halted her rant there rather than continue to disrupt her companion’s fragile peace, but her sense of being would simply not allow it. No, there was no peace to be had in Whitby; not while the horrid beast Dracula ran free and not while her friend, her love, her tender hearted fool, existed as an evidence of unadulterated evil. 

“She--” Mina shook her head hard and, with still bloodied hand, carded through her bound hair. “Where is Aubrey?”

“Asleep. Soundly.” Johnathan answered stiffly. “Murderer?”

"Yes,” Mina said gravely. “Aubrey’s vile parents are dead.” She did not need to elaborate on the how as Johnathan’s mouth turned at the corners.

“So she is--”

“Utterly. Utterly and completely.” Mina bit out. She looked away, towards the sea, towards the shore and the clouds and all things abstract and more real than this moment could ever be. “Oh, Johnathan, look what I have let become of her. Look what I…”

“This is not your fault,” Johnathan assured her, resting a hand upon her shoulder. She grabbed it tight and held it flush against her chest, glad for the rare physical comfort provided by her intellectual friend. 

“No,” she agreed readily. “No, this is the fault of that  _ fiend _ Dracula. That monster has rotted Lucy’s soul from the inside out, twisted and turned her into something horrid and vile. I care not how wretched Aubrey’s parents are -- were -- Lucy would never have acted like this if in her right mind! She would never have stooped so low as cold blooded, animalistic murder! This is that devil’s fault and he  _ will  _ pay! Mark my words!”

Johnathan said nothing for a long second. “How will he pay?” He finally asked. His tone, resigned above all else, gleamed with the barest hint of bloodlust and Mina found herself kindred for its presence. 

She squeezed his hand. “With his life.” She said firmly. “Immortal or not, I shall rip his heart from its raw laced cavity and throw it to the bottom of the deepest ocean trench. I shall split his skull like a freshly plucked pear and water this overgrown garden with his slimy and thin blood. I shall hack up his body and nail it to the walls of the asylum, a hand here, a foot there, all along the corridors until one reaches Renfield’s room, where I shall place his head on a split as a reminder of the wrongs he has inflicted upon my patient. I  _ will  _ kill him.”

“And...Lucy?” Johnathan asked slowly.

It was wrong. It was all wrong. Mina closed her eyes. “I shall cure her. And if I cannot...she shall die with him.”

She felt rather than saw Johnathan’s resolve pale and wither. “Mina,” he spoke, voice full of pity and fear and unfamiliarity as if he were consulting with a friend of a friend, a stranger, rather than one he held dear.

“She would not…” With the unspoken words counseled by another, Mina found her resolve swaying like a tree in a thunderstorm. Nevertheless, she pushed on towards what she knew must be true. “She would not wish to live like this. Not as she is now; wild and at war with herself. She would not wish it. This I know to be true.”

“But…” Johnathan took his hand away and Mina ached for the loss. “Is that not the same thing? For you to become…”

“No.” Mina said firmly. She turned back to her companion, letting all grief and pain funnel into her intense stare. “Lucy has always existed as her own version of sainthood; a woman of infinite love, caring, and passion. I have never claimed to be so good.” She nodded her head in agreement with her own resolve. “So I will save her. Or I will kill her. And damned punishment be to anyone who makes move to stop me.”

There was near silence in the garden. Near but not quite, for even in the weight which descended upon them like the curtain’s fall, there still spun winter’s feeble light, whipping breezes, and that sense of foreboding which came whenever she declared her intentions, curling down her throat and settling in her lungs like an extra heartbeat.

“Are you with me?”

“Always.” Johnathan responded gravely. “Though the others….”

“Seward knows what must be done. Morris as well, to whatever extent he is capable of taking things seriously. And with Arthur as his beloved, he is sure to come around too,” Mina said with confidence. Then, “they needn’t know about the possibility of Lucy’s passing. I can take care of that personally.”

“Indeed.” Johnathan looked sick at the prospect but she knew, beneath the shock, he was thinking of the castle and the three women who came upon him; long months of solitude and fear and mania. He, her companion of the mind, would share in her conclusions always. Just as Lucy, her companion of the heart, would...well…

She wasn’t so sure of that one.

“Johnathan?” A small voice said and, almost as one body, Johnathan and she plastered on serene smiles.

“Yes, love?” Johnathan took a knee and, despite Mina’s protest, allowed the sleep-addled child to clamber into his lap. “Did you have a poor dream?”

“No,” Aubrey shook his head. “I want…” he trailed as if embarrassed. Johnathan nodded encouragingly. “I woke up and wanted another bedtime story.”

“Of course,” Johnathan set Aubrey down and ruffled his disordered hair, making the child giggle. “Go ahead and wait inside for me. I shall be there in a jiff.”

“Okay,” Aubrey said. He ran to the door but paused just before it, a contemplative crease folding his brow. “Ms. Murray,” he said directly to her, “will Lucy be home soon? And Helsing?”

Mina drew a long breath. “I’m afraid not, young sir. Lucy is quite wrapped in her work right now, as is Van Helsing.” She softened as Aubrey looked heartbroken. “The work cannot last forever. As soon as there is a lull, they shall be around to visit you. They ask after you constantly.”

It seemed to ease him. But only just.

She stood in the garden, turning over in her mind all the facts of the situation and all its wrongs, as Johnathan put Aubrey back to sleep. The child was her responsibility now, wasn’t he? At least until the others came to their right minds, they could not be given leave to be around the little boy alone. So he was her’s. Her’s and perhaps Johnathan’s. Suddenly the marriage she’d be putting off in her mind seemed all the more sensical. Regardless of their own preferences, she and Johnathan made a good pair. They would be fine parents for a boy such as him. They could raise him here, where she had been so raised; let him run free among the wild flowers of summer, teach him from the law and medical books which littered their shelves and bedrooms, watch the winter snows pile against the window as they sat about the roaring fire. In the spring, they would take him on the train to see Johnathan’s mother in the city and in the fall, they’d trek to the northern coast to indulge his desire to see the mating seals and dip his feet in the frigid north sea. 

She halted in her dreaming upon realizing that no matter how she tried, she could not stop placing Lucy by her side.

* * *

Long, sleepless hours accompanied the moon’s ceaseless arch across the sky. Lucy looked on through the single window that was afforded to her from atop her low, wooden bed. Of course, she knew it was foolish to pull her bed so close to the damp, April drizzle, but she relished the itchy discomfort of her wet blankets. Unsteadily, she pushed open the plane of glass wider and felt a small rush of cold air against her skin. Rainwater soon dripped from her open palm as she leaned her chilled cheek against the windowsill. 

If only she could have her diary. There, she could record all the miserable changes that were constantly being afflicted on her body and mind. That could be a true tool to help Mina in their quest to eradicate the vampiric pest; a final offering of peace before the inevitable must occur. A final offering to science. A final offering of love. Lucy turned her hand and dumped the small pool of water that had been collecting there. It dispersed into mist before it could touch the cobblestones below. 

If her death was inevitable indeed, and it certainly was, then in the very least she could figure out how it could be done and Mina could carry out her final wishes. If only there were more in this blank, dusty room. 

The hours drew late and the walls closed in until they were pressing against the mangled confines of Lucy’s sanity. Something deep inside her, an ember glowing with primal wrath and sin, urged her to lash against this brick and mortar prison and seek her lonely freedom under the moon. Somewhere out there was a hovel for her, shaded by primeval pines and blanketed by black dirt and moss. There, she could wander for days, maybe even weeks, on end and never spot another living soul.

Lucy laughed to herself and the sound echoed, bloody and grisly, around the hollow room. She could imagine the stories people would tell of her:

Once there was a witch that lived in a cottage in the woods with her son. He was a brave and gallant boy and she was an unaging, miserable wretch who saw daylight only in his eyes. One day, the boy, now grown, decided to visit his mother’s old friends far to the west. After ages of searching, he found them and they looked surprised.

“How could this be?” They asked with a fright. “We thought surely she would have eaten you like she did your parents.”

“I don’t understand,” the boy said and they told him every one of his mother’s misdeeds. 

“This is outrageous!” The boy cried at last, for he had been small when he knew his birth parents and had forgotten how they had mistreated him. “Something must be done!”

So the boy and the witch’s old friends marched up to the to the cottage in the pines, weapons in hand, to confront the beast.

“Stand down, foul witch,” he called, leveling the sword at her chest, “And answer for your crimes. 

“And what crimes have I committed?” The witch asked as she looked on in horror. 

“You have taken from me a great lab assistant and colleague,” the doctor said as he held a notebook to his chest. 

“You have taken from me my dearest friend,” the nurse said as she clutched a cowry shell in her white-knuckled fist.

“You have taken from me my parents,” the boy said as he hefted his sword higher. “For all this, must you pay with your life.”

“Why should you take something so feeble as my life?” The witch asked as she sat on the threshold of her house. “I have more to give than I have taken--”

“Nurse Westenra, I have brought you dinner,” one of the nightwatch said as she entered Lucy’s room without so much as a knock. Lucy startled and there was a burst of pain, as if divine light were wrending through the boundaries between her cells and shredding her being into something new and pure. There was the clash of a tin tray and the spilling of liquid. Lucy forced her eyes open again and the world was very big. Blankets folden around her like caverns and the poor nurse who had been assigned to bring her dinner seemed to lumber like the blinded cyclops. Lucy screamed and the nurse screamed and suddenly she was sure that whatever Seward had been paying her for her discretion was not going to be enough. The nurse left the room and slammed the door, hopefully to huddle in another room and cry rather than get whoever might be supervising her at this hour. 

In her last scant moments before discovery, Lucy stretched her new arms and found that between what used to be her fingers, a thin, luminous swatch of skin had been stretched. If she focused her eyes just right, she could see the end of a black muzzle. 

What dazzled Lucy the most, though, was she could hear things never heard before. The thousands of wingbeats and cries of insects filled her new ears like a Symphony from Hell. She heard, too, the calls and ecolocations of other bats as they ate their fill in the damp, Whitby air. 

Fortunately for Lucy, she knew more about bats than she did about vampires. She crawled over the edge of her bed and gained purchase with her tiny feet as she hung upside down. It would have been a long and hard drop to the wooden floor if she hadn’t spread her wings and taken fight. Flying was certainly exhilarating, and Lucy felt she would have given anything to be able to record such an experience for all the read, but she was still a bat. She gripped the top of her window frame with her feet and tried to will herself back into her normal shape. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work. She then tried to drop to the floor and see if the jolt could change her back, but she had no luck. After perhaps an hour of trying and with her moonlight fading fast, Lucy left her room and flew through Whitby. 

It was much harder to fly outside with the wind and rain. Before she could find her footing (winging?), a gust of wind blew her through another open window. A pair of familiar, bloodshot eyes stared at her and as she was cupped in the center of a palm.

“Why is it that you keep coming through my window, Nurse Westenra?” Renfield asked as he held her to eye level. All at once, Lucy remembered Mina complaining about his propensity for consuming small mammals. She tried to scramble away, but he held her tight with a single finger.

“You know who I am?” Lucy asked and he ignored her, or he couldn’t decipher her slightly demonic squeaks.

“You are better than a kitten,” Renfield babbled as he pet her head too roughly to be soothing. “Much better than a kitten. But I can show them, yes I can.” He smiled. “I don’t want to sleep with vampires, Lucy, but one of them’s you. You! We should talk about being insane, but Nurse Murray cares about you and for me, so maybe she’s the insane one. Who will know? Who will know!” The pressure of the back of Lucy’s neck from his rubbing became painful and her bones were so small and thin. “Pipistrelle! Pipistrelle! Pipistrelle! What a wonderful breed of bat!” He cried. Fearing for her life, she bit into the heel of Renfield’s hand. 

He released her at once and flung her across the room. Through some magical act of god, she was able to right herself before she crashed into the far wall. Without a second thought to Renfield’s wretched weeping, she flew out the window and towards Ivy Cottage. His blood tasted like pure alcohol.

Perched under a tree branch there, she saw Mina slam her hand against a wooden post. At once, Lucy had to leave, even though she had been intent on hearing her friend. As she flew away, she could hear her and Jonathan’s voices, but their meaning was obscured through the screams of mayflies. 

At last, not knowing where else to go, Lucy landed on Dracula’s doorstep. The rosy fingers of dawn were beginning to glow from over the treetops. There was a single light on in the house, so she flew to the window and banged against it with her wing. 

The looming figure of Dracula opened the window and brought her in by the scruff of her neck.

“Are you trying to wake the good doctor? All things considered I’m surprised you didn’t turn into a bitch,” Dacula whispered as he looked into her eyes.

“ _ You  _ know who I am?” Lucy squeaked indignantly. She would have crossed her arms if she had them. 

Dracula raised his eyebrows and tapped her lightly on the head, “Of course I can’t understand what you’re saying because you are a bat and make bat sounds,” he said bemusedly. “But there are not many bats that bang on a window the same way someone would knock on a door.” Lucy squeaked and glared at him with all the wrath her three centimeter long body could muster. “Or you could just be a normal bat and I could be mistaken. If that’s the case, I might as well break your spine in a mousetrap.” Lucy bit his finger harder than she bit Renfield. “Bitch,” he hissed. 

“Dracula?” Dr. Van Helsing asked, having been roused by the squabble. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked blearily up at the pair. “Why the devil are you talking to a bat?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading our latest chapter! Please reach out if you feel so inclined; we adore feedback. Our other works include Song of Myself (Frankenstein) and Tender is the Night (Hamlet).


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